This Is The Moment
by thievesfire
Summary: After months of deceit, of lies, of pain, it's all come to ahead. Reuniting the Shield is a move no one expected, least of all the Authority. What begins as a fight for the title becomes a fight for their lives. After so long apart, the trust needs to be rebuilt. There's only one way to defeat the Authority once and for all, and it's together. All four of them.
1. Finally

**((So this is very first attempt at a story request! A big thank you to Vbajor10 for asking this of me, I had a great time writing it. It's going to be a long time in the making, so I hope people enjoy it, stick with it, and let me know what they think!))**

Everything he'd done, everything he'd sacrificed, everything he'd _suffered_ had lead to this moment. Months of twisting and turning, manipulating, had given him what he wanted. This was the goal, this was his prize. It was finally within his grasp. All he had to do was take it. But it wasn't proving easy. Doors were in his way, no matter how hard he kicked, no matter how hard he punched, they'd swing a little, before blocking him off. He'd thrown all he had at them. Both. First one, then the other, using one as leverage to try and force the heavier aside.

Two doors.

Two men; two hulking men who were screamed and cheered for by that crowd, no matter what they did. No matter how long they stayed away for. No matter their actions they were untouchable. He remembered those days, he remembered them well, as he lay, face down on the mat. Sweat glistened and dripped from his face, but he wasn't alone. Behind him he could hear the grunting breaths of _the Beast_, and next to him so close he could almost feel his pulse, Cena. Two men who insisted on getting in the way, on ruining everything. The carefully laid plans of mice and men could be uprooted by Neanderthals who had spotted something shiny and decided they wanted it. This was about so much more than the belt. It was about proving he was better. Proving he deserved to stand among them, revered and respected.

_Why wouldn't Lesnar stay down?_

He'd just hit a Curb Stomp. Straight after Cena had landed yet _another _AA. But no matter what he, what _they_ did, it didn't seem to be enough. The Beast had earned his name and stubbornly refused to let him snatch what he'd earned. He could hear movement; the bigger bodies rolling toward the ropes, but he didn't follow. He'd taken himself down and needed to catch his breath, give himself a few seconds to try and get his strength back up.

There was a sudden roar, and he just managed to turn his head to see the two hulks crash through the barricade. Well it was a miracle it had stayed intact as long as it had. A handful of the crowd started to chant _Holy Shit! Holy Shit!_ Like they'd never seen it happen before, like it was the first time anything impressive had happened in the match. He growled, gritted his teeth, forced his hands against the canvas and started to heave himself up. His body wanted to stay down, exhausted, but there was more work to do. The ref hovered over him, trying to keep tabs on all three men. _Good fucking luck mate_. There was Cena again, Lesnar's body slammed into the steps, causing Heyman, the fat tub of lard he was, slimmer than any slug, to waddle out of harm's way. Seconds later the same steel smacked against Brock's thick skull, laying him out on the table. This was fine. This was good, let them waste their strength.

Seth was on his feet, hit a running baseball slid under the ropes into the unsuspecting face of Cena. Ha. A quick glance, this was it. This was his chance to put Lesnar under once and for all! Cena was out of the way. He gripped the ring ropes, started to climb, the crowd's anticipation urging him on. He didn't do it for these people, but the encouragement, it helped. He had to admit, it helped.

Standing there, on top, for a moment, no matter how it made his heart burn, he was immortal. The pain that was coming was temporary. This was it. A leap of a faith, and he threw himself forward from the turnbuckle. Down, down, elbow held out, and smashed straight through Lesnar, through announce table.

Ouch.

Flat on his back, among the ruins, his eyes scrunched with pain, for a moment, he was lost in the ache. Followed by the thought of; _that better have looked awesome_. Lesnar wasn't moving next to him. If only he could get up, capitalise

_This is awesome! This is awesome!_

Excellent.

But it was clear that Cena was on the move. Seth felt as he was pulled forward, toward the ring, heaved up and back on in. Cena wanted to take his chances. Well fine. But minutes later, neither man had been pinned. No matter what they did, small packages, power bombs...it wasn't enough. But then Cena managed to lock in a STF. He struggled, felt the strain in his neck, hand flailed, tried to find the ring ropes, but nothing. He could feel his will slipping, but out of nowhere back up arrived. Two white shirts started to pummel Cena, pulling him off Seth and allowing him to breathe again. He held his throat, swallowed, and looked around. A stretcher for Lesnar. So he was out of the picture now.

Just him and Cena. And a gold money in the bank briefcase.

Two attempts didn't get him. J&amp;J were out of the picture.

He couldn't give up. They threw punches. Somehow, a chance appeared. He rebounded off the ropes, managed to hit a vicious Curb Stomp. But no, fucking, pin. Why wouldn't he lay down? Why wouldn't he just make this end? Seth stood, glanced back toward the turnbuckle. One last spectacle. He climbed, he jumped. Spiralled down and hit it. That was it. That was it, finished! But as soon as he hit the floor, he felt hands around his waist, his body thrown back, head smashed against the canvas. Dazed, he shock himself, tried to recover, just to see Cena receive the same treatment. How could this be? How? Lesnar had been on a stretcher seconds before...

But there was no time to think. No time to breathe. Lesnar had locked in the hold once again, made to launch another German Suplex. Somehow, Seth landed on his feet, hand wrapped around the handle of that briefcase, slammed it into the skull of the behemoth he faced. Twice. He was down. Fast. He had to fast. An idea struck, he jammed the briefcase under Lesnars head. The ropes! He hit against them...but found himself hoisted into the air. No. No. No. No!

The impact knocked everything out of him.

He felt numb. His head hammered and he could barely register as the pin was made. As the hand hit the mat, one, two, three.

Lillian Garcia's voice drifted through his consciousness.

_Here's your winner, and still WWE World Heavyweight Champion, Brock Lesnar!_

No.

He'd been so close. Seth blinked black spots away from his eyes, he could hear Lesnar's music. He'd been beaten. He couldn't...even comprehend it. He rolled onto his stomach, started to push himself up, when he heard the crowd roar. His eyes were unfocused, Lesnar leaned up in the corner, someone was coming down the ramp. Hands found the ring ropes, somehow managed to lever himself up. Three people, the crowd were going nuts.

He recognized those shapes, those faces.

Not now.

On all sides. Reigns. Ambrose...Paige? He blinked, moved away from the ropes. It was set up like an ambush. The crowd wanted his blood. They were _screaming_ for it. He barely had enough left in him to stay upright, they could see that. They wanted him finished. Seth Rollins, the ultimate betrayer, was going to be decimated. And they _loved _it.

He looked about him left and right, hands held out. Lesnar watched with obvious glee in his eyes. The three looked at one another. Then climbed the ropes. Ambrose's eyes were wild, like he was about to tear into a piece of meat. Seth swallowed.

They were in the ring. No escape. Nowhere to run. Closer. Closer. They stopped. The crowd were going crazy.

_This is awesome!_

Yes.

Yes it was.

Paige came forward. Her leather jacket swung, her hair flowed over shoulders, eyes stern. For a moment nothing else existed.

But then she smiled. Seth felt his own mouth turn, a glance to Reigns and Ambrose. Arms folded, arms loose, but both wore shit eating grins. They may have had their wins and losses, but some things could not be foreseen by even the smartest of marks. Paige's hand found his shoulder; he knew that everything had come to a head. His hand slinked around her skinny waist.

Lesnar stared, not sure what he was seeing, and the four of them rounded on him.

The crowd was confused, it was clear, but when they realized, they exploded.

When it finally sank through that thick skull, Lesnar charged toward Roman. But he was ready, arm cranked back, he hit a Superman Punch so hard you could hear his knuckles crack. The Beast was stunned, wavered, but still on his feet, head reeling, eyes rolling. Detaching herself from his hold, Paige slinked on over, she was tiny compared to the man before her, but she wasn't scared, wasn't afraid of anything. She slyly linked arms, turned, hooked his leg and slammed him straight down to the canvas, the back of his head bouncing hard.

She stood up, dusted herself down, and shrugged to the audience. _Oops, clumsy me. _ She walked backward, one step at a time until she was back in Seth's arms, her bare back against his chest, one hand reached up, and was met and slapped by Ambrose. He skulked forward, tongue flicked out, licked his lips, anticipation of the kill...moments later, Dirty Deeds had been hit. Lesnar was motionless. Seth almost didn't hear the crowd anymore, lost in what was happening. It was like a weight had been lifted. All the lies, all the deceit. People finally knew, people could finally see, that no matter what had been done, no matter what had been said.

All you had to do was believe.

He kissed the back of Paige's head, let go and hit the ropes, rebounding, he slammed his foot down on the head of the slowly recovering Brock. He slumped, and he found himself stood tall, faced with four old friends. He reached out slowly, a shaking arm. His hand was grabbed by Ambrose, and he found himself pulled into a forceful hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Dean was screaming, but Seth didn't hear a word. Roman next, a bear hug that could have broken bones, he could feel everything for the first time. Like after the months of hatred, he was finally becoming human again. He felt a finger tap his shoulder, turned and found Paige.

Held in her black painted nails, in those slender hands, out for him, was a golden, bashed briefcase.

The time had come.

The referee had left the ring, but lurked on the outside, holding the belt until Lesnar had recovered enough to take it, but now, Heyman tried to make off with it. The ref wasn't a push over however, and shoved the walrus away, threatened to expel him from ringside. Heyman's fat mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, as Seth smirked.

'I'm cashing in,' he shouted, and held up the case so the world would know.

He heard the bell ring.

The briefcase hit the floor, and he looked to the two men who'd had his back all along. A single nod was shared. Together, they lifted Lesnar's broken body from the floor. He was on Reign's shoulders, and together, they slammed him down. The ring shook with the impact, and Seth found himself tangled over the prone body, he heard the slams as a hand hit the mat.

_One, two, three._


	2. Enter The King

**((thank you to everyone for the positive response to this story so far! Please enjoy this next chapter!))**

It felt like the whole world had come crashing down on top of him. His hand was raised. Something heavy, something golden was pressed against him and he found his arms holding it to very tight, as if someone might snatch it from him. Seth's eyes saw that title. He looked up found three faces glowing down at him. The lights danced behind their heads, he was sure he could hear the screaming of the crowd – cheering for _him_. Not for Lesnar. Not for Cena. For Seth Rollins. The man they'd booed, the man who'd received death threats; he'd carried the most heat. People had hated him. But now, in one swift move, everything had changed. Like throwing a brick at a window, he'd shattered their concept of him, had left it laying on the ground. Now all there was, was the reflection. His true self.

Roman and Dean heaved him up from on top of the prone body; they hoisted him onto their shoulders. Unsteady, but unable to stop the smile that broke his face, screwed so tight he thought it would never leave, he raised that title high above his head. He roared and they joined him. Some great elation that transcended boundaries, which went through TV screens, floated through the atmosphere. This was a night that would be remembered forever. The Wells Fargo Centre lit up with his victory.

There to celebrate it with him, were his brothers, and as he cast a short look down, his girl. A blow off years in the making, hints and whispers had slipped through on camera from their first days in NXT. They'd been quiet, careful, but no longer. His victory wasn't just the title. It was the joining of his family. He gripped a hold of Dean's hair to try and stay steady, eased himself down from their grasp, he landed, strap over one shoulder, his golden medal of honour. Nothing could hold him back, his deep breaths, his sweat, the heart beat so loud it pounded in his ears. His hand was on her face, slinked into her hair and she melted into his touch, the other arm around her waist as he pulled her in, their lips touched and mouths on fire. A kiss he'd been waiting for since this had all began. He could almost hear Roman and Dean's eyes rolling but didn't give a shit.

She tasted better than victory.

But even this feeling couldn't last. Because as that kiss ended as they looked into each other's eyes, pride, love, collapsed.

His own theme died. In its place, a heavy guitar strum, the whiskey gravel voice of Lemmy. His arm was still around Paige, Roman and Dean moved in closer. He knew this would happen. He'd planned everything until this moment. Every act, every word had been tailored. An architect could be a prophet if he knew every structure and every weakness. But now he'd run out of visions. _King of Kings_ seemed louder than ever before.

'And this is where the shit rains.' He muttered. Paige squeezed his arm.

'You got this far.' Her strong accent, even then, made his stomach tightened. She could talk all day and he'd never tire. 'We'll carry you the rest of the way, right?'

A slow nod from Roman, who even then, kept his words to a minimum, Dean on the other hand was pacing back and forth, riling himself up, hitting the side of his face. Roman caught him by the neck of his t-shirt and held him in place so he didn't injure himself.

'Cool it.' he muttered.

Dean smirked at him. 'But the fun starts now. I've missed the fun.'

Seth shook his head, a small smirk curled his lips, but it soon disappeared.

Slowly strolling out from under the Titanitron, came trouble in an expensive suit. He'd walked along side this man. Called him his mentor, lied to his face for nearly a year, done what he'd asked, went to extremes to make sure he remained in power, so they'd never doubt him. The Game, Triple H stood next to his wife. To say they didn't look pleased was an understatement. Even from the distance from stage to ring, Seth could feel the glare burn holes in him. Triple H was shaking. But he had none to stand with him. Batista had fucked off to make movies, and in a bold move, Seth himself had taken out Randy Orton – had convinced Triple H he was a liability, manipulated the situation so that Orton, the only one who'd been onto him, was out of the picture. J&amp;J security were nowhere to be seen – maybe if he had the chance, he'd apologize to them later. They'd been loyal to him, not to the Game.

The music faded. The crowd jeered, booed. But for almost a full minute, they were at a standoff. Triple H was still, silent, Stephanie too. They shook, it was clear, and even the crowd understood the tension and near muted themselves.

After what felt like an eternity, the microphone raised to the Game's mouth.

'Seth Rollins.'

A small cheer rippled, erupted throughout the arena, and Seth looked around them, pleased. Being booed constantly had been draining.

'You...I invested everything in you. I gave you opportunities. I rose you up from the dirt. I made you what you are! And this, this is how you thank me. This is what you do in return. With them, you're nothing. That title – you should be thanking me for that. I should be raising your hand. You were the face of the Authority. You were everything. Now...' the rage, it shook his voice. He was trying to stay calm, you could see it. But the anger...Stephanie had a hand on her husband's arm, she leaned in, a whisper into that ear – snake like mutterings, tempting. 'No one. No one crosses the Game.' He pointed straight at Seth, a bullet finger that made him flinch. 'You will pay for this. All of you will pay. And you'll suffer for your choice Seth as each,' he moved the finger to Roman, pretended to shoot, 'one,' this time to Dean, 'of your friends' to Paige. Seth moved protectively in front of her, but defiant, she refused to be hidden, and stood by his side. 'is destroyed. And you'll watch Seth. I'll make you watch. Because you can't stop what I'm going to do; you can try, but you'll fail every time. This little reunion, your precious Shield will burn. All of you!'

The microphone hit the floor.

The feedback screamed through Seth's ears. The music didn't play. The Authority stood. The Shield didn't back down. Time ticked and Seth felt Paige's hold on him tighten. He had nothing to say to the Game. None of them did. Finally, those hulking shoulders near throbbing with his anger, the Game turned, Stephanie following suit – silent for the first time in her life. _King of Kings _played them out, but Seth didn't hear it. He glanced to each of his brothers, to Paige, looked into each face and each set of eyes. They knew what would happen, that they would be punished too. They'd accepted it, even when Seth had tried to talk them...talk her out of it. But they couldn't be apart any longer. He was nothing without the Shield but a conductor without an orchestra. Dean and Roman had both become lost, found themselves in meaningless feuds for something to get out of bed for, their true fight had been keeping the truth concealed.

But now, Seth knew it would be a battle to stay ahead. They'd fought wars before. They were dog soldiers, hounds trained to kill.

'Are you ready for this?' he asked. It wasn't to any one of them. It was even to himself. Was he ready for the consequences of his actions?

'Yes.'

'Fuck yeah.'

'Can't wait.'

Seth, a little unsteady, still unsure, stretched out his arm in front of him, hand in a fist. Roman followed, Dean, head bobbing, still frenzied, managed to join. A last look from all three of them to Paige; but she wore that smile that reached those dark eyes, cocky, sexy as hell, determined as ever. She was the strongest woman he'd ever met. She wasn't his; he most certainly was hers. Paige was a part of this. She was the Shield as much as any of them. With a nod, she raised her fist to the sky, let the audience, let the world know something which would rock the foundations of the WWE forever.

'I'm in.'

Four fists connected. Shared looks, shared beliefs, shared fight. Together they would be gods. Immortality achieved; if they could survive the onslaught to come. But for those few peaceful minutes, Seth felt at peace. Here, then, he was home.


	3. The Order Of Things

Uneasy, he stood at the edge of the gorilla position; watching. Every now and again, he would glance over his shoulder, cast weary eyes at his surroundings just to make sure everything was calm. That he was safe. The chances of retribution coming quickly were small. The Game was a man who needed time to plan, and the longer he took to make his move, the more time Seth had to counter. There was no way of staying one step ahead anymore; the ball was in the enemy's court. The Rumble would be a perfect opportunity to strike, but he doubted that Triple H would chance himself and his depleted forces among so many. But then, some were still loyal to the man he'd betrayed. He couldn't forget that. It would be stupid to just assume that everyone would crawl on over to his side; would follow him from the Game's shadow.

The room was packed. Wrestlers waiting for their turn; most were stretching, some bouncing on the spot. But there was something, inexplicably peaceful about it all. They chatted to each other without being too loud, there were signs of friendship. Those who hated one another just stayed further away. There was no confrontation, no tension, and that in itself, served to set him on edge. The minutes ticked by and out went more and more bodies.

Dean and Roman stood together nearby, quiet, cracking bones and preparing their bodies. They'd drawn later numbers, good odds, but they weren't complacent. Dean lost his footing during a stretch and knocked into Roman who barely even flinched. With a crooked grin he shoved his unstable friend to the side.

'Might throw you over if you do that in ring,'

Dean shrugged, 'Ah but will you catch me?' he darted round to Roman's other side, pulled a face and then moved back again. 'See? Too fast for you; all that muscle slows you down Rome, you should think of becoming more like me.' He presented himself, hands up and down in front of his body. 'See this body? This, this is what you want.'

'Held together by scars, gum and spit? I'll pass.'

'I'm insulted.' Dean feigned shock, but punched Roman's arm playfully. 'I thought you knew me better Rome. I'm not a complete fool. Besides, duct tape works better than gum. I learned that in the can.' He nodded matter-of-factly and glanced toward Seth. 'You're quiet.' He moved closer, chin on Seth's shoulder from behind, stared outwardly at the black curtain. 'I know what you're thinking. I can feel it through your pulse.' He tapped the top of his brothers' head with a finger. 'Will something happen? That's right isn't it?' he pulled away, and turned Seth manually to face him. 'We can handle it. If something happens, Rome and I will stick together. At the end, it'll be me and him, and one of us, will stand victorious.' He discreetly pointed at himself and mouthed _me_. Seth chuckled. Dean had that ability – it was something he never out loud ranted about, but it was there – like a loyal dog, he could tell what you were thinking, what you were _feeling_.

For a man most considered a lunatic, he was empathic to the ninth degree.

Roman crunched his fist. 'If they even try, what happens will be their fault.' He nodded slowly. The room was emptying and refilling fast. They could hear entrance themes begin and end.

'Bray's been out there a while now.' Seth muttered to himself; half not to anger Dean. Their Hell In A Cell match was supposed to end with him winning, a whole spot dedicated to his friend climbing the side of the cage to attempt a finishing diving elbow...but then, of course, Bray had appeared. Seth had found himself pulled out of that ring all _hush hush_. Of course what happened after that...Dean didn't like to talk about it. The whole thing had stirred too many ghosts. There was a small monitor nearby to watch what was happening, and he found his eyes widening as the shock of the crowd vibrated to the back.

Daniel Bryan had been eliminated. His eyes moved to Roman and Dean. They just stared at that screen. Moments later, a clearly frustrated Bryan stormed through the black curtain. He came an abrupt halt next to Seth.

'Something is wrong out there.' He pointed back toward the arena. 'I felt it as soon as I got in that ring. You may not be a part of this,' he turned to look at the others; the two men who in recent weeks had become his allies. 'But you are. Be careful.' He moved away. His tone had been angry, and Seth followed his movements. He didn't seem hurt, but his pride was injured, the way he hung his head. Everyone had expected so much more, he'd barely been out there two minutes.

'If he's out already guys...they're definitely going to be gunning for you two.'

'We've got this Seth, don't you worry that pretty little head of yours.'

'Who's got what?'

Moving through the rabble which consisted of a dozen or more rosebuds, decked out in their finest feather boas, massive hates and blinding clothing, came Paige. She shuffled past someone who tried to grab her hands to pull her into the dancing throng, but she managed to tumble out in one piece. Freshly showered and dressed, she smelled good from metres away. Decked out in black skinny jeans, a purple blouse and her favourite leather jacket, she slinked on over and stood next to them, hands on hips.

As she did, off went the rosebuds, lead by fearless leader Adam Rose. Seth shook his head, he remembered their NXT days together. Such a fucking waste.

'So I just saw Daniel Bryan storm off...what happened?'

'He lost. Early.'

'Oh Brie's going to be bitchy in the morning...'Paige screwed up her nose. 'So they're really gunning for the big dogs...'

'Ain't no bigger dog than me.' Roman muttered. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He was up next. 'Places to be, see you ring side.' He nodded to Dean and pointed to Seth and Paige. 'Keep an eye on him girl, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.'

'Sir, yes sir,' Paige said, kicked the ground and saluted at him. It caught a grin from him, but soon he was gone to take his place up in the stand entrance – he'd never stop. It was his little tribute to the old days. Oh how he missed the old days. 'He's going to die.' Paige shook her head, arms folded. 'They're going to go straight for him, you know that right?'

'Eh, Rome can handle himself. It's me he's gotta worry about.' Dean said, jumping up and down on the spot. 'Anyone else, we can take out together.'

Seth had to admire Dean's confidence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right. His face had settled into a frown, arms crossed so tightly it was like he was trying to keep himself together. Trying to stop himself over-reacting, doing something stupid. He'd played his part already, now it was down to his brothers. If one of them could win the Rumble, then their future was secured – there was no one he'd rather go up against at Wrestlemania than his two best friends; if he made it that far. The title was still hanging over his shoulder; he wasn't about to let it out of his sight for one second. Though, Paige made that very difficult indeed. She was right next to him, slinky frame next to his. She walked two gloved fingers up his bare chest, twirled them into his beard, tugged and brought his head down, her lips next to his ear. Her very breath made him shiver with anticipation.

'Tonight, I'm going to show you how to treat a champion...' she bit down on his ear lobe devilishly, making him draw breath. 'You're going to love every single second of it. _Believe that_.' The same hand slid down his front, hovered at the top of his wrestling pants. Seth felt himself tense; her hand shot out, squeezed his crotch before she had his face in her fingers and kissed him deeply.

'Get a room!' Dean shouted; all in jest. He'd seen it a hundred times before; had even offered to join in once or twice, seemingly not learning that _fuck off_ meant _no chance in hell_.

And how she kissed; it was like honey and whiskey being poured down your throat. She explored every particle of his mouth, a duel of tongue and passion. She bit his lip, kissed his soul; showed him that what she promised, would have happened there and then if it weren't for prying eyes. Not that she would have minded – a mid-sex conversation had once been what their fantasies were, and Paige had declared: _fuck me outside, inside, I want people to see what we have. I want them to watch, and know they'll never feel like we do, never know what we have. I want them to see, that this love is what they crave, is what they hunger for. No one could ever feel like I do when we're together, it seems selfish to keep it away from the world_. When it had come to Seth's turn, he'd felt moderately inadequate when he'd told her his ultimate goal was to make her scream every time; so far, so achieved.

He kissed the end of her nose. 'Cruel wench; making me want you at a time like this.'

'You always want me.' She chided.

'True.'

'Rome's up guys.' Dean was back watching the monitor. It seemed they'd missed their friend's entrance, but true to what Paige had predicted, he was already being put under pressure. Stardust and Golddust were on him, but true to form he powered out and got to work, quickly eliminating the two. It was difficult, watching it all happen. The year before they'd all been in it together; plans had fallen apart but they'd gotten themselves back on track not long after. Wrestlers came and went through that black curtain, leaving with high hopes, returning with broken dreams.

'Move.'

Dean was shoved so hard against the table holding the screen that he collapsed to the floor, clutching his mid-section, winded. The hulking mass of demon flesh paused next to Seth, head cocked to one side. A hand reached out and caught one of Paige's black curls; let it slip through his fingers.

'You've accumulated a great number of pretty things Rollins. It'll be such a pleasure to smash them in front of you.'

Paige jerked back from his touch, his smirk. He shot a short glance over his shoulder to Dean who had managed to get to his knees.

'And I'll start with him.'

He turned, swung a great foot and smashed straight into Dean's ribcage; he knocked back against the table, clutched his ribs and hissed, swallowed down the pain. Kane snorted, and moved through the blackness. As soon as he was gone, Seth released Paige and was on his knees next to Dean, one hand on his side.

'You ok?'

'Kicks...like a...girl.'

'Hey!' Paige smacked him on the arm. 'Don't insult the girls.'

Dean's mouth creased into a grin. She grabbed a wrist whilst Seth took the other and together, they heaved him to his feet, he leaned onto Seth for support.

'Walk it off buddy.' It took a moment, but Dean eventually sat on the edge of the table, which by some miracle hadn't fallen, and rubbed his ribs.

'Looks like he's in a shit mood, as usual,' Paige muttered.

'Or trying to get rid of the competition early,' Seth peered around, there wasn't many left now. If his brothers could just last out the final few, they were in with a chance. 'Dean and Rome are going to be the main competition...and if the Game has any influence, they're going to be the ones who get targeted. You were right Paige.' He shook his head. 'I wish I could do something.'

'You...can stay out the way.'

'Dean -,'

'Shut it. This is in our hands, not yours. You've got to watch her pretty ass and yours, let us big men deal with the rest.'

'Big men talk big with busted ribs.' Paige noted.

He flicked his middle finger at her as he doubled over a little, massaging his chest. The crowd sounded bored; you could almost hear booing. What was going on out there? Hard to know, the television monitor had a crack in its screen and static for a face. Seth moved closer to the black curtain tweaked it a little. It looked like Kane was determined to destroy everyone – not just Roman. Good. Suddenly there was a roll of an engine, Seth ducked back, Dean was on his feet, cranking his whole body up.

'Show time.'

Paige went on her tip toes next to him, planted a soft kiss on his stubble lined jaw.

'Good luck big man, give 'em hell.'

He nodded, wiped his mouth on the back of his wrapped hand and strode through the curtain with purpose. Paige stood, holding her hands and bit her lip; her eyes on Seth.

'They'll be alright won't they?'

He chanced a slow nod. 'As long as they're together and as long as we're given no nasty surprises, yes.'

Only a handful of wrestlers were left now. You could see they were getting agitated. It happened, the higher your number, the longer you had to wait, the more pent up you got. His battle was over, for the guys of the Rumble, it was all an uphill climb. But as he looked at who was left, he felt himself frown.

'What's wrong?'

'I swear Ziggler was here a minute ago.' The blond wrestler was nowhere to be seen. No sign of the Big Show either. Something was wrong with this picture. Dolph had only just had his job restored on the previous show, he wouldn't miss this chance. There was something in his gut, a feeling he couldn't quite stamp out. 'Paige, wait here. I need to check something.'

'Where are you going?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Well I'm not lurking if you're heading nose first into trouble.' She took his head, squeezed it tight. 'We're in this together, remember?' Together, if only they'd all stayed together; if only he'd followed them down to the ring, perhaps he could have avoided what was coming. Perhaps he could have done something more. Seth knew something was coming, that it was aiming for his brothers in the ring and for him. But what was happening was beyond his vision, he had to know, and he would soon find out.


	4. Break The Cutie

**((Sorry this took so long to get up! Work has been eating my soul...evil work. I hope you will all enjoy this chapter!))**

It didn't take long. They kept to the shadows as best as they could – people like them were made for the darkness; it suited them. Hand in hand, they moved as silent as they could. Seth's eyes weren't as keen as they'd once been – too many knocks to the head over the years. People passed them with questioning eyes, but nothing left their lips. Led only by his gut instinct, they found themselves near the locker rooms, the doors all closed save for one. Through the gap, you could hear pain. It shot straight to his brain as if injected through his skull. Seth raised his arm, held Paige back, but she refused; her hands were on his shoulders, her eyes peeped over his shoulder, lips kissed the skin tenderly. Could she feel his heart beat through the muscle?

There was no one waiting outside, but as he crept closer, he could see shadows moving. A little closer still, closer...

On the floor lay Dolph, bloody and bruised, his lips were splattered with red, arms crossed across his chest to try and protect his ribs from the massive foot which slammed down on them. The size twenty two boot didn't relent, pushed down harder and harder until his victim was screaming in agony. But it wasn't just the two of them. Seth's eyes narrowed as he edged even closer, threatening to expose them both. To the left of Dolph, stood Stephanie McMahon. She had her arms folded, eyes gleefully watching the destruction of the broken man on the floor. But there was no sign of Triple H. The one woman war machine looked completely at ease alone, her stilettos dug into the floor, and it was clear that she wouldn't have thought twice about sticking them straight through the wrestler at her mercy.

'Don't take it personally Dolph,' she said with that sickeningly sweet smile, 'this isn't about you today. This is because I've had a bad evening and need something fun to take my mind off it. Are you having fun Dolph?'

For a brief moment the Big Show's foot came away from bruised ribs. But instead of giving her any answer that she might want to hear, the blond spat on one of those shoes. Defiant to the end; Dolph, like so many others had taken punishment after punishment at the hands of the Authority, and even from Seth's own hand. Perhaps later, he could apologize, he could try and set things straight. He knew, that whilst the Shield had been on his side from the off, he had few friends on the roster. He didn't need them, he had all that he did in his right hand and out in that ring. But he knew, as he knew so many things, that allies were metal. Precious, and useful for so many things.

Paige winced beside him as Stephanie aimed a kick at the prone wrestler's face. There was a sickening crack as his nose broke. She gripped Seth's hand in her two paws, moved as close to him as she could. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, the very air caused the ink in his skin to tighten. He wanted her. Even then, when his eyes saw the empty violence, all she had to do was exist, and she took over his mind.

'We have to help him.' she whispered. Yes, they did. But before he could even co-ordinate some kind of plan, Stephanie looked down at her watch.

'You're on Show.'

He nodded slowly; his great body heaved itself out of the room, left the two alone. Dolph, amazingly still conscious, tried to crawl away from the woman who stood over him, proud, strong like an Amazon. Everyone thought that the Game was the one who controlled the company, that he was the one who played the players and rolled the dice. No one seemed to understand, that he was just the muscle, that every plan, every single move was conducted by the woman who leaned over a defenceless man and laughed; because she knew that he couldn't hurt her. She'd placed herself in a position where she held the cards, and he was left with nothing but humiliation and pain. Seth had found himself fighting to keep her in check, rivaled her ideas with his own, panicked when she'd proved smarter than he'd dared to think.

'Show's gone...we could go now. I could take out Stephanie, you could help Dolph.' Paige let go of Seth's hand, and started to bob on the spot, as if she were skipping. It was something she'd started doing ever since that strange business with AJ – as if she couldn't quite rid herself of the woman's madness. She'd been cut deep by their bizarre bond, and yet Seth couldn't help but find her new oddness refreshing, attractive even. But then she started to raise her fists, clenching, releasing, she was ready for a fight, a battle. Everyone knew Stephanie wasn't a push over. Her rivalry against Brie Bella had proved that. Whilst Seth had found himself against Dean, each pushing the other to the absolute limit, to sell a story to the world, the heiress of the business had stepped into the ring for the first time in a decade.

'You go in first,' Seth muttered, his eyes toward that locker room. He trusted Paige explicitly, knew that she could hold her own. She was a wrestling prodigy – there were no two ways about it. Her natural gifts took lifetimes to learn. He admired that, as well as feared it. 'Do what you can to distract her, I'll try and get Dolph out of there and to the EMTs.'

She didn't answer him.

Seth turned and found a massive hand wrap itself around his face. He struggled for air, kicked and bucked as he was lifted from the ground with ease. His hands gripped the arm, fingernails tried to cut through his leather gloves. Big Show smirked up at him; his other great arm hugged Paige to his side. She struggled like a bobcat, scratched and swore.

'Let me go! Let go of me!' she snarled. He paid no attention and marched them forward, and when Paige, slippery as an eel managed to wriggled free, he grabbed a great fistful of her midnight hair and dragged her after him. 'You bastard! Let go!'

Seth felt rage bubble inside of him, and bit down as hard as he could on the flesh that held him. Big Show roared in pain, dropped him immediately, and he found himself landing hard next to the blood puddle caused by Dolph's nose. Show flung Paige forward – she knocked straight into Seth as he tried to catch her and bowled the two of them backward. Stephanie hadn't moved a single inch, and with arms crossed she laughed. Her fucking laugh...it was like hearing a banshee screaming.

'Aw how cute. The turncoat and his pretty little thing. Seth, you're too predictable. I knew you'd come skulking around here the instant that Dolph went missing. You were always too curious, and now that your cat is out of the bag, you'd want to rectify the wrongs. And what a feisty kitty she is too.'

Paige was already on her feet, and bolted toward the suited Stephanie. 'Bitch!' she screamed and swung. The resounding slap near knocked Stephanie sideways; the follow up clenched fist sent her to the floor.

'Kitty that princess.' She hissed.

'Paige look out!'

She turned her head too late. Massive arms, thick as truck tires wrapped around her tiny body. She was lifted off the floor, and the muscles strained as they started to constrict, crushing her.

'Let her go!' Seth leaped from behind, smacked that golden belt of his straight against the skull of the Big Show. But it barely made a dent.

'I'd stop that if I were you Seth.' Stephanie said, she looked dazed, but was sat up, legs curled to the side, coiled like the snake that she was. 'Give him one reason and Paige here will be so broken you could fit her in your luggage.'

He caught her eyes, they pleaded with him to not stand down, to fight. Her already pale face started to go blue, and Seth stepped back, the belt hung uselessly from his hand, head low to the ground. He could see the blood on his boots from the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, Dolph lay, one arm stretched out toward Stephanie, to Paige? Wanting to defy, to save, even if he couldn't even stand. Admirable for sure, foolish, of course...useless.

'That's better.' She nodded and pushed herself back to her feet. She leaned in close to Paige, whose arms were strapped to her sides by Big Show's massive bear hug. 'You know, I like you Paige. You've got fire. You're different to all the other Divas in that locker room. That's why I brought you up from NXT; I saw your potential, you're throwing a lot away to cash in with this lying bastard. Do you honestly think you can trust him over me? I've never betrayed you – give him enough time, and I'm sure that he will. Look what he did tonight – showed what a snake in the grass he was. He spent this long convincing the WWE Universe he was on our side, and convinced us too...only to show his true colours. Is it so hard to think he was using you too?'

'You're wrong.' Paige's voice was tiny. 'You're so wrong.'

'And why's that?'

'Because I love her.'

The belt slipped from Seth's grip to the floor. 'Let her go Stephanie. I won't fight, I won't run away. Just let her go.'

The Billion Dollar Princess thought about it for a moment, a finger tapped her lip. Eventually she nodded and clicked her fingers high in the air. Big Show's arms relaxed, and Paige started to slump forward; Seth skidded to his knees, caught her limp body in his arms. She was breathing, alive, and went he brushed her hair from her face, her hand touched his arm tenderly, her voice was so small, weak, but her words crooked a smile on his lips.

'I'm going to kill that whore.'

A phone had appeared in Stephanie's hand, held to her ear.

'Bring security to the men's locker room. We've had an incident, some of our roster need to be detained for their own safety. The police? No, no, we can handle this for ourselves.'

She ended the call, her head cocked to one side as she watched Seth cradle Paige's body, her eyes flicked to Dolph.

'You're the one with broken ribs, a broken face, and he's comforting her. It's clear where you stand, sorry, where you _lie_, don't you think Ziggler?'

But to the last, she was ignored. Instead, that arm which had reached out before, lay on the carpet, hand open toward Seth, the blonde's eyes intent and on him. Slowly, Seth stretched out, and took the offering. Their hands clenched, and Ziggler managed a weak nod. A new alliance. Forgiveness. Stephanie huffed.

It didn't take long for security to arrive; they rolled into the room all in black, stood with purpose, even though Seth had seen dozens of them taken out before by Dean alone. They'd once defended him, these men, but now they looked at him with complete and utter indifference; they were on the Game's payroll, they owed him no loyalty.

'Bring a monitor. I want them to see what's to happen to their friends.' Stephanie smiled at the nearest. Big Show had gone, no doubt to take his place in the rumble. Had so little time gone by? Everything had happened so quickly. By the time the screen was set up, Show was already in the ring. They dominated, impressive work for two monsters in their forties whose peaks had been decades before. Dean and Roman stood together, worked to defend one another, to eliminate and to survive. Paige managed to pull herself up in Seth's grasp, her eyes were narrow, forehead barely creased it's porcelain skin to make a frown.

'Dolph was last...who...?'

The counter appeared in the corner of the screen and silenced her. The crowd seemed bored, not caring for Kane and Big Show's domination. It moved down, five, four, three, two...one.

Silence.

Seth's stomach clenched. He knew what was coming, gripped his girl in horror as green lights flashed on the screen.

_It's time to play the game..._


	5. Stolen Thunder

The four remaining bodies in that ring turned to the entrance. Seth could see the confusion, the shock on his brothers' faces. The camera didn't allow them the luxury of reaction. It centred on that stage as Motorhead proudly announced the newest competitor. He was in no hurry. Came out slowly, still wearing his suit pants and shirt. The crowd had finally woken up; and they knew what this meant. Some people screamed appreciation; others couldn't hold back the fear and the mirth. The Game started to walk down that ramp, murder in his eyes, and Seth couldn't do a single thing to stop him.

He'd made to jump the guards, to scramble out the room as soon as the music had hit, but he'd been forced back, forced down. His arms pinned behind him, bodies weighed him down. He growled and he kicked but he couldn't throw them off. Paige had been laid out next to him after successfully crippling three with vicious ball shots; Stephanie sat on her back now, hand in her hair, forced her to look at the monitor and what was heading toward their friends.

'Any move you make Seth, I can counter.' She hissed, 'See my husband there? This is where your win is worthless. Your brothers shall suffer for your betrayal. Just watch. Watch it.' she tugged Paige's hair tighter when she tried to close her eyes, made her open them as tears gritted the corners. 'Oh Paige, I don't think your boyfriend is keeping an eye on this.' She nodded to the guards holding him down, and they bent his body up, agony seeped through his back, fingers knotted in his mane to make sure, he too was forced to watch the spectacle.

In the ring, Dean and Roman weren't waiting. Together, they rebounded off the ropes and sprang straight into their massive opponents, forced them back, before striking hard. Fists and elbows flew. Dean managed a clothesline, followed by a strong right hook from Roman which forced Big Show down to his knees. It was impossible to hear anything over the music. It drilled through his skull, straight into the brain, and just tightened, screwed and screwed through every nerve. His fear caught his throat, tangled every single thought; he hadn't thought of this. He hadn't planned for it. He'd made an assumption that there wouldn't be enough time for retaliation that night. He'd underestimated the Authority. He'd failed them all. That golden belt that lay forgotten on the floor meant nothing then and there.

Somehow Kane had managed to stop the two eliminating his fellow Authoritarian. He threw Roman aside, caused him to smack his head on the ring post, just as the Game reached the ring apron. He just stood there, watched as Show forced Dean against the edge, throat on the ring ropes. Dean's tongue was out his mouth, dripped saliva down as he struggled to breathe. Triple H wasn't waiting any longer. He heaved himself through those red ring ropes. There he stood. Number thirty; the final entrant. There was no posing. There was no water vapour. His gaze was on Roman. Behind him, both Kane and Big Show grasped a firm hold of Dean and dragged him bodily to their boss. They weren't shocked to find Triple H in the ring. It was almost as if it had been planned all along, regardless of whether or not Seth had revealed his deceit...and it had. Hadn't it?

Triple H wasn't content with just standing and calling the shots. He still wanted the gold, he wanted complete power and influence. He couldn't just have that wearing his smart suit with his shaved head. He needed something more. He needed the belt; that golden thing which Seth could see just out of the corner of his eye. He knew now, that whoever had won between him, Lesnar and Cena...Triple H would have been the opponent at Wrestlemania. The rumble had been fixed...Dolph hadn't stood a chance, and now...neither did his brothers.

'Fight them Dean!' Paige cried to the screen.

He was trying. Triple H loomed over him, and he tried to tear his arms free; but as he was heaved up, the Game kicked out. His foot slammed straight into Dean's bad knee, caused it to knock out from underneath him. Sheer agony turned his face white, caused a hollow cry to erupt from his mouth. But the Game wasn't done. Roman's equilibrium was thrown from the contact with the pole. You could see blood oozing, it ran over his eyebrow and down into his eye, along his cheek. His eyes were dazed, he didn't even know where he was; let alone what was happening to Dean.

'Dean!' Seth couldn't help but shout. A cheap shot to the jaw was his reward. His back was starting to crack.

Kane and Big Show released, and Dean slumped down to the floor, hands clutched his knee. The Game slammed his foot down on it again, and again. After the sixth or so strike, Dean wasn't moving, exhausted, unable to process anything other than the pain. Triple H crouched down next to him; a hand gripped his hair, and moved it up so that the cameras could capture it. So that Seth could see every line of sweat that ran down the ghostly face of his brother. But as he made to pull away, Dean's hands shot out wildly, gripped the sides of the Game's head and pulled it down to his own, and to the befuddlement of the crowd, of everyone, he forced his lips against his enemies. The Game thrashed wildly and it was only when Kane smashed his foot into the side of Dean's head did he let go; his final defiance, humiliation of the man who wanted to destroy them all. Triple H threw his arm to the side, pointed over the ropes. His two henchmen were more than happy to oblige. Blood dripped from a newly opened gash on Dean's jaw as he was heaved into the air. But they didn't just drop him over the ropes.

Seth watched in horror as they _threw_ Dean's motionless body out into the crowd. There were screams, shocked fans rushed this way and that, some darted out the way, some wounded in the impact. Gone from view, and out of mind, Triple H turned his attentions back to Roman.

'Dean...' Seth felt something tear inside of him. They called Dean Ambrose a lunatic. But he had the biggest heart of them all; he loved without judgement. Even whilst they'd destroyed each other in and out of the ring, you could see it in his eyes, those crazy diamond eyes. Their bond would never be broken...but now, as Seth's heart threatened to break his ribs, he found himself wondering if Dean himself, was still in one piece. 'You bitch! You did this! You!' he somehow managed to get his legs underneath him, and shoved back. The guards were flung against the lockers, and Seth's hands found Stephanie. He dragged her off Paige, her screams barely registered with his brain. His girl was on her feet in seconds and dashed to Dolph's side, tried to help him up. Seth secured an arm around Stephanie's throat, 'Stay away from us! Don't come any fucking closer or I _swear_ I'll break her neck.'

He knew he sounded panicked. There was nothing cold or calculated about this. He had to get to his brothers. Stephanie was the only way he could do it, she was their free pass. She was their only hope. She snarled and she bucked, surprisingly strong, but Seth clung on. His body was weakened, sore, but he wouldn't relent. Paige had managed to heave Dolph to his feet. His whole frame sagged, but he gave Paige what she needed. Together, they retreated to the door, Stephanie cursing and sassing the whole way. They wouldn't get far taking her with them; it was just to get them past the initial barricade. Without the monitor now, they had no chance of knowing what was happening out in the ring. Not until he somehow managed to get out there.

'Paige get Ziggler to the EMTs. I'm heading ring side.'

She looked up at him with those wild eyes; they shot straight through and damn made him shiver. Somehow, even hooked up to Dolph, she moved a little closer.

'Be careful.'

'Always babe.' She kissed him quick, kissed him hard, and then, hurried off as best she could with the wounded man.

'You know she'll be next.' Stephanie hissed. Her manicured nails dug so hard into his arm she near drew blood, but he knew worse pain. He tried to ignore her words; he really did, but his short glance after Paige worried him more. She could handle herself; especially against the likes of Stephanie, and in part of a group she could be as vicious as anyone, but if she ever found herself in a situation again like what had happened with the Big Show...what if he wasn't there to help? What if he couldn't save her? No. He couldn't think about that. Paige would be fine; and they'd always be there. They'd never let her down, they'd never turn their backs. His brothers had accepted her completely and utterly, saw her as their own sister. They knew that Seth loved her. That was enough for them. 'I'll stomp the life out of her myself!'

'Shut it Stephanie. Can't hear my own thoughts above that whiny voice of yours.' He looked at the security who came closer, closer. 'Back off!' a tightened arm, and Stephanie's choke forced them to retreat. 'That's better. I'm going to go now. You can have your boss back. But if anyone follows me...well then it'll be bad for them. Terrible, in fact. I wouldn't like to think of what I could do to anyone of you.' The threat seemed to give them pause.

'I swear to you Rollins, I'll make you pay for this.'

'I'm sure you will.' He brought his lips close to her ear, words only she could hear. 'And any deliverance you bring on us, I will throw back at your pretty head tenfold. The Shield are here to stay, no matter what you might do. We tricked you Stephanie. Right now, your embarrassment was worth every second of deceit. I'll fight you every step of the way, that I can promise.' He moved his mouth from her hair. 'My belt!' he demanded. His free hand was held out, fingers gestured fast. 'Come on, hand it over.'

One of the main security guards shuffled back, heaved the title off the floor, and almost seemed surprised at how genuinely heavy it was. He moved slowly, deliberately, hands held out in front of him, as if presenting it to the champion. Seth snatched it, managed to tuck it under his arm.

'Gentlemen, I leave you. Here is a parting gift!'

He shoved her forward suddenly, caused her to fall and the mass of security to attempt to catch her. Seth didn't hang around to see how it ended, he turned and bolted down the corridors.

'After him you fools!'

His bitter heart pumped hard, but he could move fast, much faster than they could, a head start too. It didn't take long for him to find himself back at the gorilla position, and without pause, he threw aside the black curtain and stepped out onto the stage. Lights blinded him, his entrance music blared from nowhere but he didn't stop. Down that fucking shiny silver ramp, he didn't so much as think until he was in that ring.

Too late.

It was only when he looked properly; he realized one man stood alone, stood victorious. In horror he looked down to the side, and saw Roman curled up on the padded floor. His arm hung loose from its socket, mouth bloody. Time slowed, and Seth realized that the Game wasn't alone. In hand, was that sledgehammer, the one friend that he'd relied on for so many years. But he didn't raise it against Seth. Instead, he brought it up to the sky. The crowd were deafening, but Seth couldn't discern cheers from boos. There was no confetti. There was no celebration. Two men stood in that ring, face to face, and as Triple H stared defiantly at Seth, the lone Shield member raised his title in retaliation.

The game was set, the game was on. They were going to Wrestlemania.


	6. Butting Heads

'Out of my way!'

He heard her before he saw her. The carnage backstage was a blockade of bodies. As soon as the ambulances had arrived, he'd been thrown this way and that, knocked aside as he tried to help. He'd not even been able to get close to Roman or Dean. When the cameras had gone off, EMTs and the paramedics had flooded the arena, and Seth had been hoarded back through the black curtain by J&amp;J Security. They'd said nothing, but he could see in their faces...they weren't abandoning him just yet. As soon as he'd been away from Triple H, they'd disappeared off...no doubt to save their own hides. But now, as he hugged that title to his chest, as he tried to catch sight of his brothers, he saw a glimpse of her.

'Move dammit! Seth! Seth!'

Her hand appeared nearby, carried along by the masses. Seth caught a hold and pulled her through, straight into his arms. He forgot about the title almost immediately, and it slipped to the ground so he could hold her. She pushed herself against him so hard, so close that he felt like she was trying to push herself through, straight to that still beating heart. Her warm hands were on his back, and her head against his pectoral. If only she could stay there forever; his own security blanket, the perfect mould for his body. Fingers stroked her raven hair; skin tensed at her every breath. Just being this close was more than he could handle. She set off the countdown if his eyes so much as glanced her way, if his fingertips caught hers. Detonation could have sent them spiralling back, falling behind those curtains and locking those doors. He wanted to work away the intensity, the fear. She could work some black magic with just a flick of that tongue or a twitch of her fingers. But he knew, that nothing she could do in that moment could change anything.

He'd failed.

He almost didn't want to see Dean or Rome; couldn't bear to think of their faces. After so long waiting for the big bang, it had all imploded in their faces.

'It wasn't your fault Seth. We all knew what would happen to us. You couldn't have seen that it was coming so soon. They one upped us; we'll get them back.'

He rested his chin gently on top of hers, his eyes never ceasing in their search for his brothers. Every word touched him in a way she didn't know, but he couldn't believe her now. She was trying to make him feel better, and whilst it was some breath of air, it quickly turned stale. If he'd resisted, kept playing the game, then perhaps his brothers would have been safe for a little longer. But for what length of time? It all would have fallen out of his hands eventually; and no matter how he tried to catch time, it would never be his to possess again. He'd murdered their chances and now he had to deal with the blood.

'What do I say to them Paige? _Bad luck guys, we'll get 'em next time?_'

'They won't blame you. They love you Seth, they promised to follow where you lead, and if this is where the path ends I know they'd be proud. But there's more. I know there is; we're just laying the slabs rather than following the trail. When I came from England, I knew that as soon as I got to the States it was all down to me.'

She pulled away from his chest, looked up into his dark eyes. 'This isn't just about you now. This is us. This is Shield; and you can't just mope, you can't just hate yourself because it's not fair on us. Any abuse you inflict on yourself will come back tenfold to hurt us all.'

'When did you get so wise?' he knocked her forehead gently with a gloved finger. 'I swear this is the same brain who once told that we needed to breed unicorns for a strong future plan.'

'Don't doubt the unicorns Seth. They will come.' She grinned up at him, and rested her hands gently on his arms. 'We should find them, before Triple H finds us and decides that our pretty faces need denting with that sledgehammer of us.'

Seth snorted, 'You could have all your teeth knocked out and your face busted in and I'd still think you were hot as hell.'

'Guess I'd be better at certain things with no teeth...'

'Easy tiger.'

Together, they laughed. It was almost as if the world around them faded into nothingness, like no matter what hell they'd stumbled into, as long as they were together, it was some other reality. The people around them were through the wormhole, and they were content in their vacuous piece of space. From the floor, something more golden than stars winked up at him, reminded him of the burden he'd snatched from a Beast. Paige too saw it, and bent down, scooped it up into the crook of her arm and slung it over her own shoulder.

'Kinda like the feel of us. Feels right, you know? How do I look?' she stepped back a little and struck a pose. He just looked at her – could have forever. He'd heard it said, that if two people looked into each other's eyes for four minutes, with no distractions and no words, you could see straight into their souls, and could reach a level of intimacy that no syllable could touch. He was pretty damn sure she could see straight through him in seconds. Everything she said, everything she did was fire, and burned every part of him. She made him happy, with every crooked smile, every drop of the eyelid, even the candid way she stood now, one leg bent, both hands holding that title, eyebrow raised suggestively...it was like seeing her all over again for the very first time.

'You never fail to surprise me girl.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm pretty damn sure you swore straight up that posing like that was so cheap only the Bella's would attempt it.'

She shrugged, 'I work the streets, cater to my audience. You clearly liked it.'

How on earth did he actually cope with her around? It amazed him how anything ever got done. He'd have to send her to a different country just to get plans off the ground now that she was joining their band of mercenaries. The thought of his brothers snapped him back from space; and he looked up, ears finally tuning into the chaos around them. There, coming toward them, a huddle of paramedics. They moved as one, pulling something with them, heading toward the car park, to the awaiting ambulance.

'Dean.' He didn't have to see, just knew. He moved past her, straight toward them. They tried to force him out the way, but he ignored their intrusive hands, and his eyes fell on his fallen brother. The brace held his head completely still, his body strapped down to stop him slipping from the stretcher. His knee was bent up, and Seth could almost see Triple H's boot slamming down again and again with every breath. 'Dean! Dean it's me!'

'Sir please move!'

'Dean!'

He reached out, fingers caught those of the prone body, and hooked on. 'I'm not leaving him...Rome...where's Roman?'

'He's being attended to already in an ambulance, now sir please move. We have to get Mr Ambrose to a hospital as soon as possible.'

'Will he be alright?' Seth's actions had stopped the procession, and he held onto Dean's hand as tight as he dared. He looked down to him; his brother's eyes were closed, face blooded and hair matted from where it had all started to dry out. He could have been dead, but he could feel that strong heart beat through the man's tough hide. Even through fingers that pulse was sharp, fast.

'We think he may have a fractured skull. He needs a CT scan as soon as possible so we can act further. Now sir I really must insist you move – are you a friend of the patient?'

'He's my brother.'

The paramedic looked at him incredulously, clearly noting the two of them looked nothing alike. His lips pressed into a thin line beneath the thick moustache which irritated Seth just by existing. He had no doubt that the paramedic knew exactly what he was doing; but he couldn't be separated from Dean. He'd caused this. He needed to fix it.

'If you wish to follow us to the hospital then that's your choice sir. But for now, please let us get him to an ambulance.'

Seth swallowed, reluctant, and nodded. He didn't want to let go. As the stretcher was moved away, his arm stretched out, refusing to let go of Dean. At the very last second before contact broke, he felt a tension, and relief couldn't be counted on fingers, as Dean squeezed his hand. Seth was left behind. Every breath shook, but he knew then, that Dean would be alright. He'd known he was there; he'd given him a sign. The lights were on, someone was home, and knowing Dean, he was lounging on the sofa, drinking beer and getting his muddy boots all over the upholstery.

'He's going to be ok.' He said, unable to hide the clear relief in his voice, a slight laugh interrupted his words. 'He'll be alright. He's Dean.'

'That's right. Dean's the human Twinkie – indestructible.' Paige beamed up at him. 'Shall we find Roman?'

It didn't take long, and became rather obvious rather quickly, that Rome was in no mood for treatment. His bells had been rung, and he should have gone to the hospital – concussion was no joke – they all knew that. But Roman was a fighter, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let them take him away. Seth caught sight of him from the steps down into the parking lot. Sat on the steps of an ambulance, he looked worse for wear, but alive. His arm was in the hands of a paramedic who looked as if they'd had enough of the quiet abuse Seth could see his friend muttering. The doors slammed on the next ambulance over, and it drove off, lights blaring. The last time Dean had been in the back of one of those, he'd been locked in by Wyatt...Dean fucking hated hospitals. It was a trait shared by them all.

'Hey Rome, how you feeling?' Paige bounded up to him, title bumping against her chest, eyes narrow with concern. 'You're not letting them take you in are you?'

'I'm fine.' He tried to jerk himself free of the paramedic, who stubbornly held on. 'Bastards keep telling me I need my head looking at. I'm fine. Look at me. Look into my eyes. Do I look concussed? Do I sound concussed?'

'You sound like a stubborn ass.' Seth countered. 'You're taking up a perfectly good ambulance which could be used by someone who really needed it. Like Dolph.'

'Your Mr Ziggler has already been taken in. There were three of these tin cans here before you waltzed in. I'm not making it three out of three.'

'You've got a dislocated arm.'

There was a sudden, very loud crunch. Roman's face paled for a moment, his teeth gritted, before a hiss of breath escaped through his teeth. The paramedic, a perky looking lad who had to be in his mid-twenties, beamed at Seth and winked,

'Not anymore he doesn't. I really do insist you come along to the hospital though Mr Reigns; if you feel well now, there is a very strong chance of concussion and especially in your line of work I don't think it would be wise to ignore it. You hit your head very hard, and lesser impact has caused brain damage.'

'Nothing wrong with my brain.' Roman muttered.

Paige barely suppressed her laugh, 'Can we debate that?'

'You, baby girl, need to hush.'

Roman moved his arm tenderly, winced a little as he rolled his shoulder, twisted the arm and tested its strength. Seth could remember the same thing happening before, only with Dean. The determined bastard had slammed his shoulder against the ring mat until it was knocked back into place. 'See? All better.'

'We're going to follow Dean into the hospital. You coming?'

Roman nodded slowly, 'Just not in this thing.'

The paramedic held his hands up in surrender. 'Fine, fine. Go with your friend. But when you get there, please report to A&amp;E for a scan...at least let them stitch that forehead up.'

Roman was no stranger to having stitches or staples – but normally they were from the gloved hands of the Doc; not from some stranger in a strange land. Hospitals were the enemy of every wrestler. The poor lad clearly cared, and Roman finally conceded.

'Fine.'

He looked relieved, and nodded to both Paige and Seth, 'You make sure he does, won't you?'

'Don't you worry, we'll pin him down if he resists.'

Roman pushed himself up slowly from the ambulance steps and stretched his back. It was clear that his arm hurt, but he didn't let the pain reach his eyes. He cracked his neck, and swung his arms, tried to get all the blood flowing once again. He may have seemed alright, but Seth couldn't help but notice that Roman wasn't focusing in on anything in particular, as if he were staring off into space.

'I'll drive.' He insisted. 'Come on...Dean needs us.'


	7. On The Dotted Line

**((A big thank you to everyone who has stuck with me! Sorry for the gap between chapters, we were away visiting family, but now the laptop is in my possession once again, ha ha! So please enjoy this newest chapter!))**

It turned out that Dean had a harder head than anyone could have thought. It wasn't fractured, but there was a thick laceration cut down the back where he'd smashed into the chairs on his way back down to earth. Whilst the nurses had initially been reluctant to let them all into the room where Dean had been put, eventually Roman's big dark eyes and charms had bought them ten minutes. It seemed any use of 'baby girl' from the big man had its rewards. Seth knew, he would have to keep that in mind. Dean himself, when they finally got to him was awake, and attempting to fight off the poor people assigned to try and care for him.

They could hear him shouting from the corridor, and hurried on. Eventually the glass panel displayed his flailing arms. Sensibly they'd put him in a private room – possibly to try and drown out the tirade of swearing. Seth instantly darted through the door, completely uninvited, to stand at the end of the bed, hands held out, eyes imploring.

'Dean, Dean cool it. They're just trying to help you.'

'Don't need no fucking hospital! Get off me! Get fucking away!'

'Give him space.' Seth begged the staff, they looked at him uneasily, but seemingly trusting the man who'd actually got a recognizable sentence from the wild animal in the bed, they backed off a little. 'Dean apologize.'

'Fuck off.'

His friend refused to look at him. Dean laid on that bed as if it were his cage, his head against the pillow, stared in the opposite direction. If he hadn't known him as well as he did, Seth knew he could have taken the ignorance to heart. But this wasn't about him, it wasn't even about what had happened to Dean. If you were to retrace their history together, long before WWE, back o the days of FCW, when they first met, Dean was transitioning in life. Before; he'd had a different name. Jon Moxley. It was one people had run from, a bloody past that Dean never tried to forget, but tried to leave behind. When people called him crazy, when people shouted that he should be in an insane asylum, well Dean had been close to it. He'd been arrested for brawling in the street, he'd bitten officers, stolen their vehicle, driven to the next town, then was caught as he gave a little girl five dollars at her lemonade stand.

Needless to say it had been an interesting court case. He was saved only by a rather influential judge, and Vincent Kennedy McMahon taking interest in a runaway with a temper. He took in Jon Moxley from his violent days and bloodbath nights. They changed his name, threw him into a new cage with new dogs. The day they'd met Dean had sniffed him. He didn't shake hands, but laughed at the notion. All through their time, it had been a bitter hatred, bitter and gritty determination to best one another. Dean wanted to break out. He hated being pinned down, needed an outlet.

One day, because he was considered a freak by many of the other wrestlers, they'd locked him in a store cupboard. It was only when Seth and Roman ((who used the nickname Leakee back then, it was only later, when Dean told him what an awesome name he actually had, that he started properly going by it)) realized he'd not been seen minutes before a match they had together, that they found him. He was pale, unresponsive, had thrown up and shook. He'd reverted back to a child, back into a nightmare of which he'd never disclosed. He could see the fear now, the memory in Dean's eyes.

There was so much about their friend they didn't know. Dean was private, secretive. But his hatred of hospitals had always been clear, his fear of restriction painfully obvious.

'Dean look at me.'

He ignored him. Paige however, was far above just using words. She strode forward with purpose and seized Dean's head in both her hands, turned it to look at her and glared straight at him.

'Don't ignore him. Don't you dare ignore any of us. Don't even _think_ of being a shit to these people Dean. They didn't do this to you, Triple H did. We're your friends. We're here to help you, and so are these guys. Now you let them do their fucking jobs. You're lucky you're not dead, so be thankful you have to look at this gorgeous mug, and,' she pointed over to the door where Roman lurked, 'his gorgeous mug, and,' finally, she pointed over her other shoulder at Seth,' and his _fucking handsome_ mug.' She let go, pretty much flinging his head back into that pillow. She whipped her hair over her shoulders, and moved back to the side hands on hips. For a moment no one moved, before she glared at each one of the nurses and doctors in turn, 'Well? _Assist_ the patient dammit.'

Dear Lord he fucking loved her.

Dean almost looked afraid of her, before his brow collapsed once again to the frown he seemed to wear as part of the uniform.

'You know he could have been concussed, or head a broken neck, don't you?' Roman broached delicately, his body slightly swung in so she could hear.

'Look who's talking doggy.'

He leaned back, hands raised by his head in surrender, but shot a knowing wink at Seth. Paige was right, there was a very real chance Roman _was_ concussed, and they couldn't leave the hospital without him being checked over too. But for now, Dean was the priority.

'The x-rays we took of your knee show us that there is a fracture, Mr Ambrose.' The doctor said, he lurked next to Seth, clipboard in his hands, smartly stood just beyond kicking distance. 'We took them of the knee joint in two planes. Whilst -,'

'Get on with it.' Dean growled.

The doctor, who clearly was not used to being spoke to in such a way, swallowed and shifted uncomfortably. 'Due to the nature of the fracture we're going to have to operate.'

Seth flinched. His eyes searched the faces of Paige and Roman who couldn't quite meet his gaze.

'How bad is it doc?'

'Well it's a complete-articular fracture, that means that the condyle has separated completely from the femur. Whilst it's the most extreme of fractures, to fix it is a routine operation involving inserting a plate and screws to support the femur and the leg. Mr Ambrose has clearly shown he's able to move his toes, so loss of movement is currently not a worry. However, there are complications which could arise from surgery.'

'Such as?' Seth asked, he sounded far calmer than he actually felt. Inside, a riot was breaking out, full scale and full of fire. He could see glass smashing, he could hear people screaming and all he cared about was blood. Triple H, Big Show Kane...they would all burn for this.

'Well, it's unlikely, but not unheard of, for patients to lose knee movement.'

'Would he be able to wrestle again?'

'Time would tell.'

'But say everything went well, how long would he be out?'

The doctor wrinkled his nose, and only then did Dean really seem to pay proper attention to what was being said. He'd almost become a background observer to his own diagnosis.

'Well doc? Answer the man.'

Seth finally noticed the name tag on the man's lab coat: _Sr Dr. Lawrence Dod._ What a name. It suited him, he looked far older than he probably was, years of stress and patients like Dean and friends/relatives like them had clearly turned his hair grey before it's time.

'Most fractures take around eight to twelve weeks to heal fully. But it can take up to a year for full strength to return.'

'Not gonna happen.'

'Dean you can't not have surgery. You heard the man, your leg is buggered.' Paige interjected. It was hard to hear the concern in her venomous snap, but it was there; if you looked for it. 'We need you at full strength.'

'And what's gonna happen to you three if I'm gone for a year? Huh? What's going to happen to _me_? If I can't fight back, what's going to happen? You think the Authority are going to take a holiday off from beating the crap outta me just because my knee's busted?' he snorted. 'Evil pricks don't take weekends off.'

'Well,' Sr. Dr. Lawrence Dod cut in, 'As long as the knee has healed, we can help organize an intensive physiotherapy program. It'd be hard, but could cut months off. I need you to understand though Mr Ambrose, I would sincerely advise that you took as long as possible off to get that knee back to full strength, it had clearly been weakened significantly for such a fracture to occur.'

Dean though, had shut off again, stared up into space. It was how he coped. Seth was almost envious of him. Too much went through his brain at all times for him to just shut down. He couldn't clear his head, he wasn't an easy sleeper because of it. Roman had turned now, leaned his back against the doorframe, arms crossed, chin to his chest as if he were about to drift off to sleep. He was searching for something to say, Seth knew that, but the silence of his friends pissed him off.

'Do the surgery Doc. We need him.'

'We'd need Mr Ambrose to sign the appropriate paperwork,' he moved forward with his special clipboard, but as soon as he got close, Dean's hand darted out and knocked it aside. The papers flew free and scattered all along the floor. The doctor stared in shock, stuttered and looked toward Seth for help. Surely he'd dealt with patients just as difficult? Maybe it was how detached Dean was from the news, maybe it was how he could be so still, and then so violent. It worried Seth...because this wasn't Dean. This was a shade of him, his darkest half, Moxley was always, there bubbling just under the surface. Waiting. It took all of Dean's concentration and will to control himself, because it would always be too simple, far too _easy_ to fall back into old habits. A simple act of violence from a soulless body. He'd become so much more. He was loved, and he knew that. Seth picked up all those papers, tried to tell himself that this was nothing.

'Dean. You need to sign these.'

A slow shake of the head.

'We need you asshole. Sign these fucking papers before I punch your face it and smoosh your bloody nose against it.'

'Paige you're not helping babe.'

'I thought I was.'

'Dean.' The sudden rumble of Roman's voice; Seth and Paige turned toward it. They knew that tone. 'Stop being a child. You're being irresponsible. You know we need you. You said it yourself, but now when it comes to just signing to let these people do this job, you're being a stupid fuck again. I want you back. _We_ need you. If you're not here five minutes, it don't feel right. Don't make it a year, and don't be that stupid fuck that bites people and throws crap like a kid. Sign the papers.'

His voice was so calm. So quiet. Roman never said anything unless he had chosen the words carefully, and knew what the outcome would be. Dean's emotions were so unpredictable, few things were able to talk him down. Seth normally managed with time, but there was something protective about the slow tones of Roman's voice.

You could see it in Dean's eyes, as he gave in.

Seth pushed the papers toward him, pushed the pen between his fingers. 'Come on Dean, for us.'

_For us_. _Get your knee kicked in for us Dean, get thrown into the crowd for us Dean, let them kick your brains out. Take it all Dean. Let them kill you for us Dean._

There was a squiggle of pen. Pages turned, another haphazard signature, and when all was done, Seth handed the jumble of papers back again.

'Make him better Doc.'

Sr. Dr. Lawrence Dod nodded solemnly, clearly keen to exit the room as soon as he could.

'We shall schedule surgery for as soon as we can. Now if you'll excuse me.'

He had to sidestep past Roman, who let out a low growl as they briefly touched. Terrified, the doctor disappeared out into the corridor and vanished among the waves of people.

'Well that went well.'

Paige gently perched on the bed next to Dean, and leaned next to him, pulled his head against her shoulder and held it, kissed his forehead, sterile and clean from where his head wound had been cleaned, paper stitches locked it shut.

'Poor big man,' she kept her lips against his skin, 'you stupid fucking asshole.'

That cracked him. It was slight at first, a curl of his lip, but then, it broke into that shit eating grin they all knew. His devil eyes looked at each of them in turn. It was alright. Thank fuck it was all going to be alright.

'Out for so long though...gonna be shit.'

'We'll keep an eye out for you, don't you worry. Get you a pimped up wheelchair or something.'

'Better have _titty master_ scrawled on the back,' Paige demanded and smirked as Dean turned his head into her cleavage. 'Down boy, or Seth might smack your teeth down your throat with his shiny new belt.'

'Got the gold now brother,' Dean leaned back into his pillow. 'So what you gonna do with it?'

'First, I'm going to get Triple H's attention,' Seth said. His arm was across his chest, hand in the pit of the other, whilst his other hand was against his mouth, eyes on the bed frame. But he saw so much more than that. The great machine of his brain had shut down, his emotions had blown all the fuses. But not now. Now, the fires were burning, shovelling fuel. Ideas were starting to plumb from the smoke.

'I know that look Seth,' Roman rolled around the doorframe to face them all. 'What you thinking?'

'I'm thinking...that tomorrow night on _Raw_, we give Triple H what he wants.'

'Which is?'

'Shield on a plate, and the gold in front of his nose. He won't be able to resist that...and when he comes for it...we'll be ready.'

'Damn pulling games without me. Doesn't seem fair.' Dean pouted. Slowly, they circled his bed, and Seth stuck out his fist. Dean raised his own, as did Paige and Roman. Locked together. 'Give him hell for me, and bring me steak and fries. And grapes. I'm sick. So I demand lots, and lots of grapes.'

'You hate grapes.'

'But I'm sick.'

Seth shook his head, couldn't help the laugh that escaped. It was met by his friends, this insane family they'd managed to create.

'You'll be back with us before you know it Dean.'

'Of course. You're not getting rid of me that easy. I'll become a vapour and stick to your clothes, so you crazy kids have to carry me wherever you go. I'll whisper in your ears and watch you eat.'

'Ok Creepy McCreepson,' Paige ruffled his hair affectionately.

'Shield's back together, that's what matters. I missed us.' Dean muttered, he closed his eyes and sank down into that hospital pillow. He looked at peace, genuinely happy for the first time in so long. Even the prospect of surgery for his damaged knee wasn't enough to knock that smirk on his mouth. They'd worked so hard to get where they were, not even this would stop their sunshine. Seth watched his friend as he drifted off into a well earned sleep.

'I'll stay with him, you guys go on,' Roman muttered and jerked his head toward the door.

'You sure Rome?'

His answer was a short nod. Seth didn't want to go, still felt responsible for what had happened, but Paige came to him, she took his hand, and gently started to lead him away.


	8. Playing The Game

Seth stared up at the hotel ceiling. There was nothing interesting about it, no character and no quirks. Just a plain painted surface that glared back at him. The spotlights which had been planted inside of it gave way to darkness, just so the siren next to him could catch a few hours of sleep. But Seth didn't allow himself the luxury. Being a light sleeper at the best of times was a curse, but now, he needed himself to think. This room was his mood board, that sound in the night was his brain. Leaving Dean hadn't been something he wanted – far from it. But Roman knew him better than he knew himself. If he were to plan their first move in detail, he could have no distractions, emotional or otherwise. Paige beside him lay naked, the covers barely over her porcelain flesh – no matter the weather, she did so. She radiated heat, and lying beside her was near too much to bare. He wanted to touch her, to taste her sweat.

She'd sated his appetite earlier, as soon as they'd been alone. The hotel door had slammed and their clothes lay in shreds on the floor. She'd made sure that any thoughts he had were of her and her alone, had ridden him so hard he thought he might snap. She knew just what to do, to make him writhe, to make him fall into her so completely that there was never any escape. The mere memory of being inside her made him tense, set him so close to the edge. But he had to be stronger than that. For all of their sakes.

As he lay, he moved through the events of the day, of the victories and the defeats which had brought them all to the point where they now stood. The hours had fallen away; the rumble was the past; another day gone and another yesterday to lose to history. He could brood, it was one of his worst faults. It was so easy to find yourself wrapped up in everything that you could have and would have changed, that remembering the present, thinking about the _future_ found itself on the backburner. And oh how he burned. If it wasn't the sweet smelling heat that rose from Paige's skin, it was the blaze in his heart and those industrial fires curling and shifting in his brain.

_If I could gather every spark I've seen in your eye, every glimmer of an idea inside your head, I'd have enough stars to fill the universe_.

Words passed through him, memories of faith and trust. She'd always been so sure to encourage him, knew what little belief he had in himself, in his body, his mind, his own two hands. His brothers had always known. They'd seen him for more than the man who stood in front of them. They put their confidence in him, gave him every little particle of their beings. It was a massive boulder to shoulder; perhaps he could have been born Atlas, or Hercules and it would all have been just water off his back. But before them, he'd been alone for such a long while. He'd been abandoned in his days before the WWE. A lifetime ago he'd thought he'd had friends, but learned that the people you trusted could stab you in the back.

He remembered the looks on their faces when the chairs had smashed their bodies. He remembered the bruises and welts on Roman's back. How he could only apologize with his eyes, across a body of space. They'd known it was coming, but not when, not where. It took time, they had to trust him completely and utterly for the facade to keep so strong for so long. And now it had all run out, and their masks were off and their fists were clenched, it was a new beginning. It seemed every chapter of the Shield started with blood. Perhaps he'd grown lazy, assumed too much. The Authority may have lost their legs, but they were rebuilding fast.

Sometimes, when he needed to think, he'd listen to music.

But there was no greater rhythm than the beat of her heart. Their arms touched. She'd curled herself up a little, her arms tucked under her head, raven hair tied back. What would it be, to be her?

What magic would it be to have her strength, her grittiness, her apocalyptic temper and refusal to accept anything less than what she wanted? Did she fear anything? He was sure she did; but she kept what she was afraid of buried, hidden behind eye liner and snow white skin. He saw a kinship between her and Dean. They were two lost souls, runaway trains headed for the end of the line and no care for the consequence of what lay behind the tracks. They could fall through the end of the world and they'd tear it down screaming and laughing. He envied them; if only he could be so devil-may-care, if only he could take that world off his shoulders and throw it aside. He tilted his head to the side and saw that title, draped across the chair that sat near the tightly drawn window.

_Take a good look at that gold son. It had better be worth all of the shit that's coming._

But that was the point. The title was a piece of gold and leather. It wasn't the material of the belt which mattered so much; it was the recognition. It was the world knowing that at that moment in time, you were the greatest wrestler who ever lived. No matter how short a reign was, for those seconds, days, weeks, months...or even years, it was everything you'd ever worked for. It was his reward.

Now what was coming...that was a whole different game. And a game it would be. Trading shots with the Authority was never advised, but it came with the territory when you betrayed people that powerful. In some ways, he'd admired them. They'd taught him how to be just as low, just as rotten and just as fucked up as they were. To beat a monster, you had to become one. To weaken a machine, you had to get inside. He'd had fun playing the mole. But he'd been in the dark for so long he was more than ready for his time in the sun. And tomorrow night on _Raw_, he'd be fucking _shining_.

Seth took in a deep breath and rolled over; his back to Paige, hand reached out and snagged his mobile phone from the bedside table. With a few flicks of his thumb, his eyes squinted from the sudden light. Nothing from Roman; it didn't surprise him. The chances of Rome falling asleep next to Dean's hospital bed were strong. Whenever any of them were injured, it was Roman who stood by them, waited, the silent guardian. Seth doubted that he'd gone for that CT scan; Rome's own health didn't matter when something had happened to one of them. They'd tried for years to make him see some shred of sense, but he was one stubborn Samoan. Family was his creed; and they were family.

One fucked up little family.

He rubbed his hairy face wearily and put the phone back, turned over to face his dark goddess. Her breathing was quiet, hooded eyes shut, body rose and fell. When they'd first met, it had been instantaneous. They'd connected through their love of metal; they'd fallen for each other over their combined force of will. Love wasn't something he'd ever really focused on – wrestling had come first, had been his life until blown on in. Life was a hurricane with Paige. It never stopped and never slowed down. She never failed to find new ways to excite him. He found new sweet spots on that perfect body to make her scream, to make her shiver in his arms. They could just lie for hours and never run out of words to say.

Sometimes, things were right.

He could have watched all night. But to his surprise, as if she knew what he was doing, she took in breath. Her body moved a little, and she shifted her head, eyes opened.

'Hey.'

'Hey,' she yawned and pulled the covers over her a little more, her head just peeped over the top. 'You been scheming?' another yawn. 'Must be...to be up this late.'

'Just admiring the scenery,'

She made to swat at him, but it was weak and her hand flopped down on top of him. He pushed himself closer to her, arm wrapped around and brought her close to his chest. She nuzzled against him, quite content.

'Made any plans for payback?' she asked, a finger twisted around his nipple idly.

Seth shrugged. 'Some, but I'm finding it hard to think. Too much keeps nudging in on up here.' He tapped the side of his head, shuddered a little as she tugged on him.

'Well that's no good. We need concrete schemes Seth Rollins, or we might all end up wondering who made you leader.'

'I do wonder that myself sometimes.'

She flicked his chest hard. 'You're just as bad as Dean. You can do this. I know you can. Because I damn well say so; and what Paige says is law. I demand plans. And...' her hand slipped down under the covers, fingers trailed down his torso, found his cock and squeezed tightly, 'I demand them now.'

Briefly forgetting how to breathe, Seth swallowed, licked his lips and looked down at her. Even in the dark, her eyes glittered up at him. She was a mischievous sprite, some succubus that stole his soul piece by piece with every touch.

'Well,'

'Yes?' her hand slid gently along the length of him.

Seth cleared his throat. Think clearly; she's proving a point. A wonderful, fucking amazing point that felt so good. No. She was distracting him. She was making him think. He had to think, otherwise she'd win.

'The one they're going to want is me. I figure making a scene outback between the three of us, you blaming me for what happened to Dean. Say you end it by slapping me.'

'Like this?' quick as a cobra, her hand shot out and smacked his cheek. It stung, it tingled, and dear God it made him hard.

'Quite.' He pressed himself against her tighter, made her feet his _own_ heat. 'I could go out to the ring, call out the Game. Make him think I'm alone.'

'And then?'

'Then, the fun begins.' Seth nudged her leg to the side, shifted his body, and pushed himself into her. She breathed out, shivered in anticipation. But he stayed perfectly still. She'd had her fun, now he'd have his.

'Dean will be sad that he'll miss out,' she managed to say as Seth slowly, so slowly, slid himself out, then back again. She was struggling already; he knew how to make her squeal. Paige liked to be fucked in all manner of ways, but what got her off the most, was when he was gentle with her. 'What is this fun you speak of?'

'That's where you come in babe. You and the big man.' He ran a hand down the side of her face, looked tenderly into her eyes, 'My body is the bait,' he caught her leg and pulled it up over his own, moved smoothly within her. 'But you two, you're going to be the big bang. You're going to make them understand, make them see, that you do not fuck with the Shield.'

'I think you're fucking with the Shield right now,' she was already breathless.

Seth smiled, 'And like all things babe – I intend to finish what I started.'


	9. The Thaw

**((A massive thank you to everyone who's reviewed this story so far! I'm glad everyone is enjoying it! We finally reach the next day – it only took eight chapters! Please continue to let me know what you think of the story, I appreciate everyone taking the time out of their day to read it!))**

He'd never possessed so much swag. That gold gleamed up from his shoulder in every available light. People stood aside when he walked past, stared at him in confusion and admiration. The backroom staff of the WWE didn't get involved in the wrestlers business. But they picked and chose who they liked. They didn't have to like him – he'd done enough to guarantee he could be hated for centuries by people who didn't matter as much. But oh yes that gold. He liked the weight of it. The title suited him. He could hear a few of the backstagers whisper behind him, words like _dick_, words like _bastard_, words like _fuck he's hot_. And he agreed with them. He was red hot – Seth Rollins was on fire, and anyone who even _dared_ to touch him would have to suffer third degree burns.

Seth felt good. Better than good. It was clear to see; the pride shone out of his face, made his eyes sparkle in that way that only true men could muster.

Today was a good day.

There was no crowd to shower attention and love all over him. There wasn't thousands upon thousands of fans. The snow outside had near prevented half the roster from making it, had postponed _Raw_. It was an opportunity to say his piece to the world. All he needed was a microphone and a camera. Paige and Roman had braved the blizzard with him, and whilst they'd reached the WWE Headquarters together and in one piece, they were now nowhere to be seen. But, he knew they'd appear later. They'd appear when he finally had a camera lens pointed at him, they'd celebrate together; partially for him winning the title, but also for managing to make the two and half hour journey in five hours. Paige had never seen such weather, and whilst she'd enjoyed it for the first half hour or so, she quickly developed a thick and blind hatred for it.

But because of the location, because of the snow, plans had changed. Everything had changed.

It came from out of nowhere.

The belt slipped from his shoulder, his body doubled over as agony blasted from his stomach. Seth's back slammed against the wall, and he found himself held up against it, hair pulled up, to make him see straight. He bit back the pain and his vision swam, but as it started to clear, the enemy he thought he saw started to come into focus.

'Ro-Roman? What you doing?' he snapped, he made to come forward but found himself flung back once again, held in place by a hand at the throat. He clawed at it with his gloved fingers. He felt sick, bile rising in his throat from the impact, from what was happening. 'Rome – can't, breathe.'

'That was my _Rumble_.' He snarled. 'Mine! But no, Triple H snatched it away from me Seth, because of _you_.'

'Roman stop!' Slender white hands were on his arm, pulling as hard as they could. 'Let him go Rome! Dammit let him go! You know it wasn't his fault!'

Suddenly, Seth was released. He slid down the wall, landed on his knees, next to his title. Dazed, confused, he found Paige's tender hands on his shoulders.

'You're defending him? Paige? Seriously?'

'You're being an asshole, leave him alone.'

Roman didn't dignify her with a response and Seth was only vaguely aware as he left, his thick army boots stomping out of view.

'You ok?'

'_Slight movement away from script..._' the words were so quiet, that only she would be able to hear. Carefully Paige helped him upright and handed the title back to him. He looked down at it. 'This is mine fair and square. He just can't handle that I _won_. I got it first.'

'Seth stop – you're just as bad as him.' Paige snapped.

'Am I? Sorry. I don't mean to offend. Maybe you should stay with Roman tonight. Perhaps you can bitch and whine together. This title is mine sugar tits.'

'Seth -,'

'No no I'm clearly still the bad guy. Go on. This is my moment. I don't need you to share it.'

She slapped harder than he remembered. It was so vicious it smacked his head straight round to the side, left the skin hot and bothered. _Control yourself_. He could near feel her fingerprints imbedded into his cheek.

'You wouldn't have that title if it weren't for us asshole. You know what? Fine. You don't want to appreciate this? Just fine, Roman appreciates me Seth. He just _loves_ me. I know that if you don't want to dirty your hands with this body then he'll let me in. _He'll_ be happy to have me share his spotlight.'

Seth rubbed his cheek tenderly as she disappeared off. Paige had the best angry walk ever – her arms swung with purpose, her legs worked hard like she was marching in the army. She just couldn't help it. Give her a scenario that required honesty and she could work it like a pro – as soon as she had to lie, as soon as she had to make a scene, it very quickly became comical. There was nothing fake about that slap though. It stung like seven devils. He stared after her and sniffed.

'_Fine_.'

'Excuse me, Seth Rollins?'

Oh look, Michael Cole. Just to improve things. He looked stressed, a little dishevelled, his hair was damp and it was clear he'd only just made it as well. But even then, he wore his smart suit, his beard was neatly trimmed. Seth didn't miss the suit. In fact, he'd made plans to burn it. He knew he looked good in it ((Paige had told him a hundred times over, and a hundred times more, just to make sure the message got through)), but it was just a harsh reminder of the person he'd been for nearly a year. A tiger in a pit of lions, hoping no one noticed his stripes. It seemed with a well tailored suit and a well tailored smile, you could get the world to buy into any well crafted lie. He didn't have the tie and the jacket or the shiny shoes now, but there was a microphone, there was a camera.

'Hi Michael.'

'Do you mind me asking what just happened there?'

'Don't pretend Cole, you _saw_ what just happened. Reigns is jealous of me and my victory. Sure he gave me a helping hand, but you know what? At the end of the day he just can't handle the fact that I'm carrying this, this beautiful thing,' Seth looked at the title fondly and shifted it up on his shoulder a little. 'And he's not. But that's ok. If that gives him some extra drive that's great with me; if he wants it that much more then he'll up his game.'

'I don't know if Paige quite saw it that way -,'

'Now see the thing is Michael,' Seth hung an arm around the interviewer's shoulders, pulled him a little too close. 'You clearly don't understand women. Paige? Paige is just _mad_ about me. And like Roman, she just can't cope with it. What you just saw is the very _core_ of our relationship. Within the hour she'll be back, all smiles and doe-eyed, because she knows I'm a good thing.'

Cole was clearly uncomfortable, but ever the professional, he carried on.

'Last night at the _Rumble_, we saw the Shield reform. Are we seeing cracks starting to form already? And what of Dean Ambrose? As the _Rumble_ went off air, we saw Ambrose being attended to by paramedics. From what we understand he was taken to hospital – have you any word on his condition?'

Seth squeezed Cole's shoulder, and looked at him proudly.

'The Shield are stronger than ever Cole. When Roman gets over himself, everything will be just like it was. We went through hard times before, and we'll just carry on. All that needs to happen is for certain people to grow up a bit, grow a pair, and move on. All brothers fight Cole, surely you know that.' The mention of Dean though, cracked the confidence a little. 'Dean's alive, and he's where he needs to be. He's being well taken care of, and hopefully he'll be back with us soon.'

'From what I understand the WWE have sent a representative to the hospital to try and get an interview with Dean -,'

'There's a ban on the roads Michael Cole. You must be mistaken.'

Cole shook his head. 'No, I was told by Triple H himself. Speaking of the Game, what's your view on his sudden entering of the _Royal Rumble _last night, replacing an injured Dolph Ziggler?'

Seth's face fell flat. 'Ziggler wasn't injured. He had the crap beaten out of him by the Authority, just so they could retaliate against me. And I regret that, I really do. But what's done is done, Michael Cole. Ziggler deserved his shot, but I guess Triple H can't get over his own massive ego and just give the people who work their asses off the chances that they deserve.'

Michael Cole looked at him in surprise. 'That's a strong statement Seth.'

'It's the truth. Now if you'll excuse me Michael, I need some ice for this jaw. I may go for a walk outside. I hear there's plenty.'

He released the interviewer and turned abruptly away. In his pocket, his phone vibrated. He pulled it free and flicked it to life. Words darted across the screen.

_Roman says sorry he hit you so hard. It's just you were so damn rude. And I might keep 'sugar tits' think it might look good on my ring attire? _

_**You did great babe. Did you hear what Cole said? Triple H has sent a 'representative' to see Dean.**_

_Shit. Oh shit – we shouldn't have left him alone. We didn't plan for this._

_**Speak for yourself.**_

_You are joking right? _

_**I, Seth Rollins, joke? Good one. **_

_We have to get to Dean – we have to help him._

_**Dean's in good hands, don't you worry about him. I've made arrangements. **_

_Seth I don't know if this is a good idea._

_**Silence woman. All my ideas are good ones. We keep playing. If Triple H thinks for one second that we're breaking face, that any of this is an act, he'll rain down harder on us than Thor's hammer. We just need to keep it up, carry on. You guys are doing great. Cole was convinced and so was my jaw.**_

_If you're sure. I love you._

_**I know you do. I love you more. Now get that ass of yours making a scene.**_

It was so easy to appear so sure of yourself and your plans when texting. You could magic up confidence with every letter that you typed. But inside Seth could feel conflict brewing – some civil war. Oh he'd made plans, back up plans, hidden plans, secret plans, plans a through to z. But every reaction he had was hypothetical. He didn't know how to adapt until given some action. Well Triple H had made his move. Cole had given it away – whether it was intentional or not, some trap for him to fall into, he wouldn't know until it happened.

Dean was not alone in that hospital.

But in that moment, as he hurried away from Michael Cole, Seth realized how very very alone he was. No allies to jump to his aid. Just him and that gold over his shoulder. It suddenly felt a whole lot heavier. By now he was supposed to be in a ring, calling out Triple H, not wandering through strange corridors, looking, waiting, hunting. This was the dominion of the Game, a corporate environment which Seth had navigated only a handful of times. He turned corridors that seemed familiar, but found himself confused.

Seth paused, looked left and right.

Someone screamed.


	10. One Hot Mess

**((Once again, thank you everyone for your support! I love writing the dialogue between them all, it's so much fun! I hope everyone is enjoying the dynamic between the characters, and the story I'm trying to tell. Please please please, let me know what you think!))**

'Get off you bitch! Let go of me!'

'But why?'

Seth kept himself against the wall, hidden just out of sight.

'Roman!'

'Get rid of them.'

'You're dead whore! I'll rip those implants straight out of you! And I'll STAMP on them!'

Paige swore and threatened until her voice dulled to nothingness.

'Someone needs to shut that pretty mouth of hers. I'll be more than happy to do so husband.'

'I know. But not yet, first, I want Rollins.'

'Security are searching for him now. It won't be long.'

'That idiot Cole did just as was needed. How will Rollins defend Ambrose if they're separated? As soon as Rollins is mine, he'll see just what happens. Keep the girl and Reigns out of the way. I don't want to _see_ them, _hear _them or even know they exist. Find me Rollins. Now. My patience is wearing thin.'

Seth pulled back a little. _Shit_. Bringing Paige and Roman with him was a mistake. Dean was covered, but he hadn't considered what could happen to his friends, _him_ if they were out of sight of the cameras. It was fine. He had time. All he needed was a few minutes. If this had been standard _Raw_, every single angle had been planned out in fine detail. In the wake of his and Paige's love making he'd told her not to worry. That he had everything figured out. Well it seemed the snow had been lying in wait, ready to fuck everything up.

But that was alright. He had pieces he could work with.

His eyes glanced to the title. Slowly, he plucked it off his shoulder, brought it to his lips and kissed that gold goodbye. Near him, just to his left was a door. He had no way of knowing what lay behind it, whether or not it was locked, he didn't know if people were inside, but he had to take a chance. As quiet as he could, Seth turned the handle, eased it open and peered inside. Perfect darkness; he gently closed the door behind him. No light, but he didn't need it. He felt tables and chairs. Using his fingers to trace outlines, Seth was down on his hands and his knees, planted the title deep into the shadows under one of those tables, face down, so only the black leather of the strap would have been seen.

That would have to be good enough.

As silent as he'd entered, Seth exited that room, eyes left then right to make sure he was still invisible. There were security cameras everywhere, and he knew he'd already been seen somewhere, but until human eyes were on him, he wasn't worried. Carefully, he edged along the wall, toward where the voices had drifted from. Another door, but a little open, breathlessness through the crack. Seth crept forward, eye to the gap. He saw too much; a woman bent over a table, the bulk of a man behind, thrusting with great passion – from her breaths she clearly was enjoying herself. He knew those two bodies anywhere; had had the displeasure of viewing the scene before him before.

Not long after he'd 'turned' on his brothers, Stephanie, seemingly still not trusting him, had offered him a chance to prove his allegiance. She wanted him. Had forced him up against the wall; told him to kiss her. He'd refused – citing her husband, his boss as his reason. Triple H himself had interrupted, and as Seth had escaped, he'd witnessed the two begin against the wall. He had to hand it to them; the forces of evil appeared to have had good sex lives. Perhaps some time, just to fuck with them, he'd re-enact what he'd seen with Paige – record it and send it to them. He didn't much fancy shaving his head though. And without his girl, he couldn't do anything, let alone childish pranks. Paige and Roman were absent from sight, and with no clue where they'd gone, he pulled away from the heat of the room.

He'd seen far too much.

He almost felt disgusted he'd lurked, watched as much as he had.

But as he moved, his pocket vibrated once again. Too close to the gap in the door. Somehow, they heard.

'What was that?'

Hurried breaths as they tugged on clothes. Seth hissed, looked around in panic for somewhere to go. Nowhere he could get to fast enough. He stood. The door slammed open.

Seth Rollins starred at a red faced Triple H, his wife, her hair a mess.

'Oh hi. Didn't want to interrupt, sounded like you were busy. I'll come back another time.' he gave them a winning smile and a wave. 'Toodles.'

'Rollins!'

He bolted. His acrobatic body was in far better shape for speed. The two owners of the company lagged behind, but he knew it wouldn't be long until he was being chased by a whole posse. Why did things never quite turn out how he wanted anymore? It all seemed like such hard work to stay one step ahead. Maybe it was easier on the inside, when he was privy to so much more, rather than having to guess, and rely on what he knew of the enemy. He turned round a corner, almost ran into someone carrying coffee, dodged around paper pushers, eve somersaulted over a man bent down trying to fix a mains plug. It was almost fun.

Freeing – as if he weren't human, but a character in a video game, working his way through this maze, dodging the obstacles. But there were no golden rings to collect, and he could only move at his own best speed. People were very quickly becoming aware of his presence. They pointed and they shouted and it didn't take long for men in black to be in hot pursuit. As he dashed in all directions, he found himself passing the live feed, displayed on a dozen or more screens, watched by dozens more.

It was the security footage from the building, tailing him. But all cameras showed all views, and he had to skid to a stop, saw as another jumble of security wrestled with Paige and Roman near a door marked **STORAGE.**

'There he is! Get him!'

Time to go.

He had no idea where that storage place was; the handful of times he'd been in the headquarters he'd been accompanied at all times to the places that he was supposed to go. This was his first true exploration and he knew he couldn't get caught. He didn't like to think what could happen if he was. His athletic body, honed from years in the wrestling ring gave him an edge. He was built for high flying – the security guards were more...mat wrestlers. They would have been at home technically wrestling. But in reality; they'd probably never even stepped inside that four sided ring. He could see them as opponents.

Seth could have prided himself on his performance for the cameras earlier. It had almost felt as if he was playing the villain all over again. It could have disturbed him how easily it was to slip into character. But it was all for show. As he ran now, he knew that what had happened between him and Roman had all been one big performance. All so real, all so convincing – but as he turned corner after corner, he questioned whether Roman's words had been true. Did he feel as if it was Seth's fault that the Game had plagued the _Rumble_? It may have just been for the world...but he knew such questions would have to be answered.

There! Storage!

He had to hide – people!

Security dashed past.

'It's ok, they're gone.'

Seth, huddled at the feet of a circle of women, peered up at their giggling faces.

'Thank you,' he took the hand of the one who spoke, kissed it, and rushed back to the storage door. It took some force to open.

Inside was dark. It seemed someone was energy conscious enough to turn off all lights. Seth frowned as the door closed tightly behind him, cut off any light he'd had. Cautious, he stepped slowly forward. The storage room itself appeared to be massive. He could see outlines but little more. From his pocket, once again his phone vibrated.

He pulled it free.

_We'll find you Rollins. In the meantime, remember what you left behind._

Below, was a picture.

Dean. He was still in his hospital bed, sleeping. The image appeared to have been taken through the window. Nothing had happened – Dean was safe. But Seth knew it was a threat, of what could occur. Dean had been right – nothing would stop the Authority trying to get to any of them, and knowing that Dean was out of action made him a prime target. But Seth had made sure it wouldn't be so easy – Triple H's goons were not the only ones watching his friend. Suddenly realizing the light the phone gave off, Seth turned it to face the blackened world. Everything and anything was hidden away. It was a treasure trove of crap and office supplies. There was box upon box with the word** MONITORS** stamped on the side. The light drifted across dust and shadow. Ladders and miles and miles of cable lined walls and trailed the floor. He had to tap the screen every few moments to keep that light alive. It illuminated the twilight of the room – suspended in the dark. Things hidden away in this place probably had never seen the light before.

A sudden thought struck him. He'd received a message before – the one Triple H and Stephanie had heard come through. He glanced back through the messages – one missed, from Dean.

_Where's my grapes?_

'Where indeed,' he muttered to himself. At the sound of his voice, he heard something, movement in the dark. Seth swung the light of his phone around, progressed forward. 'Hello?'

Was he expecting an answer?

'Seth?'

'Paige?' his heart surged and he stumbled forward. Did this room have a fucking end? 'Where are you?'

'I'm not sure. But it smells.'

She sounded clear as day, and when he finally found her, there she was, leaned against Roman, both on the floor, her head dangerously close to his brother's armpit.

'That would be why. Hey Rome.'

'How you doin'?' he answered.

'What you doing on the floor?'

'Oh, you know. Just having a rest.' Roman adjusted how he was sat and Seth noted his arms were pulled above his head. He moved the light upward. 'Oh these?' Roman twitched the handcuffs that attached him to one of the ladders. 'You know, just making sure I didn't fall over as I relaxed.'

'Oh, well if you're comfortable I'll just leave you to it. Mind if I take my girlfriend though?'

'Er...might be difficult.' Paige sat up properly, her right wrist also linked to the ladder. 'Care to give us a hand?'

Seth rubbed his forehead, 'Well at least you're not dead.'

'Thanks for noticing – though the big man here smells like he is.' Paige said and nudged Roman fondly. He retaliated, knocking her with his shoulder. They swapped blows childishly until Seth clicked his fingers.

'Ok children. Enough.' He glanced around them. 'Well, this _is_ a supply cupboard. Let's see if we can MacGyver you guys out of this.'

'I love it when you talk like that.'

'When he makes ABC references?'

'Mhm, makes me hot.'

'How does that make you hot? That show finished running the year you were born!' Roman grunted.

'Feeling old Rome?'

Seth ignored them, and took the light with him as he hunted. First he had to detach them from that ladder, second, they all had to try and get out of the building. It all seemed like a lot of hassle for a couples of minutes of interview, but hey promotion was promotion, and if they could convince the Authority of cracks already, then it was all to their advantage.

'Couldn't you two have been held captive somewhere with better lighting?' Seth grumbled. 'Can't see for shit in here.'

'Maybe you should have the vampire here use her night eyes.'

'Bite me dog.'

It took a couple of minutes, but finally he chanced upon what appeared to be bolt cutters. Overkill, perhaps, but it was all he could find among the murk. He looked them over, they were old, a bit rusted, but it would have to do.

'Paige hold this – shine it on the cuff.'

Obediantly, she took his phone from his hand and turned it toward the ladder. There was no real margin for error, and in seconds there was a crank and snap. Paige was free, she was up from the floor in seconds, jumped bodily onto him, legs tight around his waist, arms around his neck, lips crushed his.

'My...hero...' she muttered between kisses. She licked the outline of his lips.

'Yeah he's a real hero. Mind helping me out, hero?' Roman shrugged against his bonds. Paige however wasn't willing to let go, and somehow managed to slide her way around onto Seth's back. She didn't look like she weighed a lot, but the woman was pure muscle. Once she'd managed to secure herself, her head next to his, Paige, who'd by some miracle not dropped the phone, turned the light toward Roman, who's eyes squinted. Dust particles floated. Seth moved forward, positioned the cutters, and with a strain of muscle, cranked them down once again.

Another snap.

The phone lost its light as Rome stood once again, rolled his shoulders to crack out the cramp which had settled in.

'I say we leave. All those in favor?'

It was unanimous.

'Seth, where's your title?' Paige whispered as she nibbled his ear affectionately.

'Hiding, but safe, for now, we need to retrieve it before we go.'

'I'll get it.' Roman volunteered. Seth turned, looked into the eyes of the big man.

'It's OK Rome, I know where it is.'

'So tell me.'

'I need you to get Paige out of here. You're the only one who can fight off a dozen guards. Besides, I'm faster than you.' Seth made to open the door, but stopped. 'Rome – gotta ask. Is there something we need to talk about?'

'Meaning?'

'I didn't know that the Game would do what he did. I underestimated him, trust me, if I'd thought he'd have been that fast, I would have been out there beating him off you. You deserved to win the _Rumble_, so did Dean. But things went out of our hands. You know I'd face you any day for it.'

'Really?'

'Yes. And when we have time in this crazy stupid fuck shit life we're trying to live right now, you say when, and we'll go at it. Because you deserve your shot.'

Seth held out a hand, needed his brother to know he meant every single word. Slowly, through the dark, he felt fingers and a palm. The shake was made, and Rome jerked him forward, Paige and all, into a very cramped embrace.

'This is real nice and all, but I don't know if Seth can breathe big dog.' Paige muttered. 'And hey, here's a _crazy_ idea. Why don't we stay together! You know, not do the whole _Scooby Doo_ thing. Might work out better with three pairs of eyes. Well. Two and a half – Seth's aren't that great.'

'Good enough to know where to find everything.' Seth said, reached round and patted her ass hard. 'But for once...alright. Besides, I don't really want you two out of my sight...'

'Not going anywhere brother.'

Seth nodded, hand on handle. 'Let's go get the gold.'


	11. All The Ways To Turn

**((We've reached over two thousand views! I'm so very proud and thankful that people have taken an interest in this story. Once again a big thank you to each and every one of you and to Vbajor10 for requesting it from me in the first place! I hope everyone continues to enjoy the chapters. I really love writing the characters ((especially Paige!)) and have big ideas for the future of the story. Please continue to review and let me know what you think, it means a lot to me!))**

'You sir, opticians!' Paige shouted at him. The three of them tore down the corridor, security hot on their heels. Ok so perhaps he should have realised from a distance that the cluster of shadows was in fact half a dozen guards in their signature black uniforms. Maybe he should have squinted, or even thought to wear his glasses; but it wasn't part of his look – Paige constantly told him how dorky he looked when he wore them, and when you were trying to come across as someone who shouldn't be messed with, Woody Allen goggles like his weren't exactly hard.

'Shut up already!' Seth growled back. Paige showed no inclination for wanting to get off his back, but running with her was surprisingly smooth going. He took her weight easier than he thought he would, and she'd secured herself in such a way that she didn't inhibit his arms or legs, but he knew there was only so long that he could keep it up. Roman was a step behind them, a position of his own choosing - if anyone got too close, he would fight them off. Normally Dean liked to head operations, but Seth's eyes were those leading the way; and clearly he was supposed to be the centre of it all. They'd had to take a different route because of his screw up, and he couldn't tell one corridor from the next. There was no sign of the screen room, and that had been his marker before. He didn't like running. He almost felt cowardly doing it; but getting caught was not a fun option either.

A quick glance upward saw a camera as they whizzed past. It followed after them, and he knew that soon they'd be in bigger trouble. They'd gone through so much shit to get the belt; they couldn't just abandon it now. Whether it should have or not, the gold mattered. Almost a year of hell had been endured by all just to touch the blasted thing, now it was proving just as difficult to keep hold of it. He felt like an animal, breathing hard through his teeth as he stormed the corridors, chased by something bigger than him. He was sure he had nightmares like this when he was a kid.

'Hang a left,' Paige suddenly instructed. 'I think I know where we are.'

'Hope you're right.' Roman grunted from behind.

Seth had little option but to trust her. His sense of direction was ridiculous, but Paige's memory was photographic. She never forgot what she'd seen, no matter how small. She could be abrasive with humans, but she knew their every detail. He turned sharply; nearly losing his balance with her extra weight, but Paige compensated and leaned a little to the right to steady him. The halls stretched out with identical doors, how one could be told from the next was beyond him, but Paige knew; she always did.

'Left in four doors!'

He obeyed, and to his utmost surprise, at the very end of the new corridor, was glass and screens. The monitor room – he knew where he was once again. He could get them back to where he'd hidden the title. If it hadn't been so damned awkward he would have kissed her. But there would be time for that later.

'They're catching up!' Roman roared – there was no way the huddle of black was getting faster. It meant that Team Shield was getting slower.

'Paige I need you down!'

She didn't need telling twice, and without him even needing to stop, she detached herself, and landed on the run. It only took her a couple of steps to come up to par and head to the front. She ran like a gazelle, it was weird to watch considering she was normally so heavy footed. Her hair flowed out behind her, and you could see every muscle working. Seth was so caught up he very nearly forgot to shout out where to go. 'Left!'

Several twists and turns later found them back to the fucking room.

And to where the Game and Stephanie still lurked. They leaned against the corridor walls, and had clearly been waiting, because in the Game's meaty fist, swung that sledgehammer, slowly like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Paige skidded to a halt, and Seth and Roman stilled on either side of her. Security came to a stop behind them; they were surrounded on all sides.

'Looks like the end of the road Rollins. You shouldn't have bothered coming in to work today; the snow should have kept you away.'

'Well I had to keep you both on your toes. Though clearly Stephanie's had a lot of practice with that – the table a bit too tall for you Steph?'

Her face was thunder but the sadistic smile that stretched those red lips never faltered. Sometimes, he tried to put himself in the place of her children, and tried to imagine what it was like that face coming through the dark to kiss you goodnight. It was the stuff nightmares were born from.

The Game clearly didn't take too well to his wife being spoken to in such a way, because he moved off from the wall, three great strides brought him near nose to nose with Seth. His breath was hot, stale, his tiny eyes almost hidden under his heavy frown. But Seth didn't feel fear, just complete guttural hate. It was gasoline in his stomach, made his throat burn and it was everything he had not to spit against that bulbous nose.

'I warned you Rollins. I told you what you would happen for crossing me.'

'Ah but we're all still here.'

'Not all of you.' The response was cold, calculated, you could hear the glee creeping in. 'One of your dogs is missing.'

'And out of your reach,' Roman growled, he made to step forward, but Seth held him back. He could hear security behind them, moving closer, closer. To his right, was that door; the title hidden beyond it. It was so close he could almost reach out and touch it.

'_Nothing_ is out of my reach Reigns. How's your shoulder?' he swung the sledgehammer up, as if about to slam into Seth's chin, but he caught it just below the hammer head, looked at it fondly, and wiped invisible dust from its blunt end. 'I remember you under my foot, this colliding, watching as your arm came away with a crack. What a moment. Your face then – it was such a picture, I wanted to frame it, keep in on my wall, the look of complete, pure and utter agony. I liked it. And trust me, I won't hesitate to make that your last expression.'

'You talk too much.' Paige interjected. 'Say something worthwhile, and then we might listen.' Over his shoulder, she spotted Stephanie, and waved, her fingers waggled, 'Hey Princess.'

The Game moved so quickly. Hands moved down the hilt of the sledgehammer, turned and made to smash it straight into Paige's face.

But Seth was faster. The hammer smashed his chest, knocked him straight against the wall. The shock hit him first; the pain second. He heard Paige somewhere nearby and her banshee scream. His hand went against his chest, felt his heart through his skin. Still good – couldn't say the same for his ribs. There hadn't been enough room for the Game to gather momentum, but enough force to knock Seth sideways.

Another hound down, but not out; Seth ignored the pain and scrambled up to his feet. He'd taken worse. Paige was on Stephanie, hands in her hair, she pulled so hard the woman was thrown straight down to the ground, her head smacked off the floor. Roman had tackled the Game and on the floor they wrestled for control of the sledgehammer. Security were almost upon them. Without a second thought, Seth charged.

They weren't prepared for someone running _toward_ them. He took three down in their surprise, turned on the others. They attacked clumsily, threw punches which hurt when they connected, but were slow and misaimed. Seth caught the wrist of one, turned it and used its own momentum to slam it straight into the jaw of another. Hands closed around his waist, but he threw up his arms, held onto the head, dropped his legs and allowed the chin to smack down onto his shoulder.

The door.

He threw it open and dashed inside, was on his hands and knees, crawled to grab the title. They followed him, but lost in the dark, they didn't see as he moved straight past them and out again.

The Game had somehow managed to turn the tables against Roman. The Samoan was under him, and Triple H raised that sledgehammer high.

'Remember this Reigns?' he growled.

'Remember this?' Seth retaliated, and as hard as he could, he swung the belt straight into the back of his enemies' skull. For a moment the Game didn't move, dazed. But then the hammer slid from his grip, landed with a thud on the floor, and he slumped to the side, not out, his eyes blinking furiously as he tried to regain his equilibrium. 'Paige come on!'

His girl was having far too much fun. She and Stephanie were at each other's throats, and Paige had somehow managed to rip Stephanie's blouse open.

'Now see these just aren't natural. You should let me fix that...just a slight incision here...' she drew a line down one of Stephanie's breasts with a nail, 'and we'll take that nasty silicon away...'

'Paige!'

She turned her head toward him. Seth and Roman stared at her, out of breath, and slightly concerned of her mental state. Paige shrugged.

'What?'

'Shall we go?'

Stephanie took the opportunity to swipe. Her talons caught Paige's cheek. Paige looked down at her.

'Oh honey, you shouldn't.'

It took both Seth and Roman combined to rip her off the other woman. They dragged her kicking and screaming down the corridor toward the exit.

'Let me at her! I'll give her a flat fucking stomach when I put my boot through it!'

'You have sex with this?' Roman huffed.

'It's kinda hot when she's mad,' Seth admitted. Paige was a wild animal for all extents and purposes; it was hard to think what it must have been like for her parents to raise her. He'd never met any of them before, the rest of the Knight clan was hidden away in England and there was never time for visits. He even had the feeling, that Paige hadn't actually _told_ her family about him. 'There was this one time I ate the last crumpet and she actually threatened to claw it out of my throat as we did it over the table -,'

'I don't want to know these things.'

'You asked!'

The door hit their backs and they somehow managed to manoeuvre their way outside. The cold hit them harder than the Game could have. Snow fell down in great clumps. Paige had finally stopped struggling and was on her feet, but it took their quick reflexes to stop her dashing back in there to finish the job. The sweat Seth had managed to gather in their struggle felt like it was now ice on his skin. Teeth chattered and he bear hugged Paige; partly to stop her from killing someone, and to share their heat.

'Do you think that went well? I think it went well?' Paige asked.

'Ask my ribs in the morning.'

They stomped through snow toward where they'd left Roman's hired truck. It was a beast of a machine, and built for bad weather. Soon they were in; Seth could have fallen asleep then and there, exhausted by it all, but Roman clearly had something on his mind. But he didn't ask. The big man would get it off his chest in no time. Rome put the key in the ignition, turned. Heating blasted on. But he didn't pull away; instead he turned to them both.

'What's a crumpet?'


	12. Here's The Deal

**((Hello there! Here is the next chapter for you, sorry for the gap between postings, I'm moving house and all sorts of things are getting in the way of my typing, hopefully soon it shall settle and I shall be all yours once again!))**

'I should have been there. I should have fucking ripped them apart as they fucked...'

'Easy big man,' Paige soothed, she patted Dean's arm gently from her spot in her chair. Whilst he was still stuck in his private room, Dean had found multiple ways to entertain himself, which included but wasn't limited to learning Spanish from one of the on duty nurses, playing endless games of _Candy Crush_ on his forever charging phone, and wearing crayons down to the nub colouring in a book traded from one of the little kids who'd wandered the halls. Dean himself looked exhausted, pain meds didn't agree with him – he functioned better just working through it. One of the nurses had attempted to help him wash, but Dean had sworn the poor man out of the room. 'If you'd have done that then Seth wouldn't be able to set his amazing master plan into motion.'

'Does the amazing master plan involve the complete and utter destruction of the Authority and all its little friends?'

'Maybe,' Seth mused, 'but we need to try and keep you safe through all this. I spoke to the orderlies about keeping security at your door for last night, but they're not going to be able to keep it up every single night.'

The fun and games of the previous night had been an entertaining story for Dean, but Seth had kept one part quiet, from all of them. The photo of Dean sent to his phone had made him realize that he couldn't keep Dean safe twenty four seven. There would always be times when he wasn't being watched, when the hospital was so busy that no one notice a five minute window where a patient could be attacked or worse. Dean hadn't made any friends among the staff, except perhaps with Lucia – she seemed to deal well with his bad attitude and he rewarded her for it by behaving.

'I don't intend to be laid in this thing for this fight. As soon as they've sorted out my fucking knee I'm on crutches and I'm out there with you.'

'If you're on crutches you're not going to be any help to us. You'll be a liability...and a danger to everyone. You're bad enough on two feet, let alone with those things at your disposal.'

'You flatter me,' Dean mockingly half bowed. It was a curious sight, Dean wore pyjamas. For as long as Seth had known him, he'd always slept naked. Even the nights they'd had to share hotel beds, Dean had insisted he couldn't sleep any other way. Eventually it was something that he'd gotten used to – Rome on the other hand preferred the floor to sharing the bed with a naked Dean. But someone, perhaps Lucia, had somehow managed to force him into a pair of blue hospital issue pyjamas. He almost looked normal in them, which no doubt he hated. 'I want in on this, even if I have to cut a promo from this fucking bed.'

'I'm sure I can arrange that. Do we have a date for your op?'

'Thursday morning – if his royal highness sir Dod dares to come back in here.' Dean slouched into his pillows, blew his hair up from his forehead. 'He won't come in unless someone babysits him.'

'That's because you tried to bite him.'

'He had it coming.'

'I'm pretty sure he only came in to see how you were.'

'I was fine.'

'You're knee is so fucked it's in two pieces.'

'I've had worse.'

'Shut up Dean,' Paige biffed him on top of the head. 'You need to be nice to these people. They're the ones trying to get you on your feet once again so you can help us come and kick ass so hard they'll all be shitting leather for weeks.'

Dean glanced at her, and took her hand in both of his, his eyes glanced from her face, to Seth, then back again, 'You're too good for him. Run away with me Paige, be my queen bitch, we shall rule hell together.'

'Aw honey, you know I would.'

'So why don't you?'

'Because I need to keep that one alive,' she nodded her head toward Seth, and ran her hand down the side of Dean's face, 'and you smell like shit babe. I can't live with someone who smells like shit.'

'Still here guys.' Seth waved himself back into existence.

'Can we share her dude?'

'The answer to that question is the same as it's been for the last four years – fuck right off you sad old shit, find your own and stop trying to steal mine.'

Dean sighed dramatically; 'Forever alone...' he recovered quickly however and peered about. 'So how come you haven't brought Rome along then?'

'He's sleeping in a dark room with a cracking headache. Still won't come in for a scan; my vote is concussion, so for the next few weeks, we need to try and keep him out of trouble as well. You're all a pain, you know that? I need to keep renovating my plans to suit your frailties.' Seth shook his head, 'Raw has been completely moved to Thursday now, so we the plans I had before will need to be applied to then, taking into account the promo we pulled yesterday. Paige's slap was heard round the world – the internet went crazy, there's even an article on asking whether or not there are cracks.'

'Well you two being here together kinda counteracts that.'

'But I'm not here. No, right now you're talking to some random dude who's accompanying Paige.'

'Who looks a lot like Seth Rollins?'

'I'm working on the disguise alright?'

'No no, it's great. You know, if you're disguising yourself as Seth Rollins.'

Seth threw the trapper hat he'd jammed on his head to the ground in frustration, 'Ok fine! The disguise sucks. You happy now Dean? Are you happy that I have failed in this minor piece of this massive jigsaw I'm mentally trying to piece together?'

'Yup,'

Seth sighed and ran his hands through his bi-coloured hair, 'Fuck you man.'

'Look Dean,' Paige intervened before Seth actually had a minor breakdown in the middle of the room, 'Seth has an idea to keep you involved with everything, so that not only do the audience know you're a part of this and you're not out, but to remind the Game that we're watching you and haven't abandoned you.'

Dean reached across to the roll over table next to the bed, grabbed a pen, ripped off the corner of one of his colouring pages, and gestured for Seth to come forward. As soon as he was close enough, he pulled off his friend's glasses and shoved them on his own. Dean looked oddly smart when he wore spectacles, and it had been some miracle over the years that he hadn't suffered any eye damage or deterioration. He pushed them up his nose with his index finger and winced.

'Damn man, you need to get those peepers sorted out, can't see for shit through these.'

'Like Paige, they're not for you Dean,' but Seth chuckled, 'are you ready for the plan? It's a doozy.'

'Hit me,'

Paige complied and walloped him hard in the shoulder, Dean either didn't notice or was so supped up on meds it didn't bother him in the slightest. There was a slightly glazed, faraway look in his eye, which could either have been down to the morphine drip in his arm, or the glasses sending him to mars.

'We're going to play on the idea of me being an egotistical arsehole and keeping the title as my main focus. This means that we're going to try and play everyone into thinking there is more and more tension between Roman and myself, with Paige and you caught in the middle. With me so far specs?'

'Rude.'

'I want the main focus to be on us at all times, no matter what else is happening in the WWE, we need to be what people are talking about. The Authority are going to try and take us down and take us out at every turn, but if our own dramas are more predominant than they are, they might be inclined to let us destroy ourselves.'

'And if they aren't? If they're more inclined, professor, to beating us to an everlasting pulp?'

'Well that's where you two come in. I have any number of ways this can turn out, but if it goes how I think it will, it should evolve into Shield becoming a three man force again – with you siding with Roman. This leaves me open for assault, and for a few weeks it might go that way. We'll have to make them truly believe that you've abandoned me. Then, when it gets bad enough and they're certain they've won, we pull our trump card. They believed that I'd abandoned you for near a year, I can make them think that you're leaving me because I've become so much of an asshole I've driven you, and the woman I love away. The title is the centre of all of this. If I lose it too soon, then the whole thing could tumble. I'll need you guys to play behind the scenes to keep this up.'

'Just want to raise a point here,' Dean said, and pointed his pencil in the air, 'what if we're sick and tired of deceit and just want to open up a big old tin of fuck up people's faces?'

'There'll be time for that,' Seth insisted.

'Listen mate,' Dean pulled the glasses off so he could see his friend clearly, 'your plans are great, they really are, they've gotten us through knee deep shit before. But I'm tired, Seth. I've had enough of playing this or pretending that. I want us to be the Shield again, I want people to know that we've had enough of the shit and we're here to stay. You're champion Seth, you can be you again.' Maybe it was the drugs, but Dean was incredibly lucid, it was almost scary, 'You've been in the Authority's whirlwind too long, played the bitch for too long – you've become the mask. You need to stop – because I want Seth, not the bastard who planted me face first into cinder blocks. I want my brother back, every part of him.'

Seth couldn't help but stare.

'I well, I guess, I mean...'

'I'm not saying don't plan. Just don't make us enemies again...cos I couldn't bare it man.'

'I'm with Dean. Seth, babe, you've done so well.' Paige was on her feet and locked her arms around Seth from the side, her head against his arm. 'You really have, and we don't have to play tension, everyone can see Roman wants his shot at the title, we can push that to our favour. We're not your puppets to pull around and twitch whenever you want, I don't want to read lines that come into your head, I want to say what I wanna say, and mean every syllable and every punch. This isn't a game anymore, its war, and we need to be soldiers, and people, not puppets on a playing field.'

He wasn't quite sure what to say. They'd always gone along so easily with his ideas, his little plots and dramas that he'd never even stopped to think what they really felt. Was Dean right? Had he really become the master manipulator he'd been playing for so long? Was he addicted to the power it gave him? Maybe...maybe he had gone too far. He'd planned ahead three thousand kilometres into the future when really he needed to think about the steps in each day.

'You're right,' it was actually difficult to say it. 'You're right and I'm sorry. We fought so hard to be the Shield again, it'd be wrong of me, me of all of us, to break us all up once again.'

Paige squeezed him tight. 'You're human Seth, we all fuck up every now and again. Even you.'

'Heh,' he nodded toward Dean, 'we'll do this your way. We'll be us. But I do have something for you, something for Smackdown – Raw – Smackdown.' On the floor next to his brown booted feet, was a backpack. For years he and Paige had argued over who it belonged to, but he was pretty damn certain that it was his. He managed to detach himself from her and unzipped it.

Dean's eyes widened at what was pulled out. 'Is that for me?'

'All yours Dean, now here's what we're going to do...'


	13. The XL Center Job

**((So this is yet another apology for the long gap between postings, this girl did NOT have internet for over a week and it was horrible. But now I have it back and we can all rejoice! I giveth you this chapter as a massive thank you for your patience. I hope you all enjoy it, please let me know what you think, thank you!))**

The atmosphere was positively nuclear, all the superstars were on tenterhooks, no one knowing what was coming. They'd watched the Game and his wife arrive in their fancy car and avoided them and their entourage like the plague. Everyone had heard what Seth had said about the Rumble – they all knew, that what had happened to Dolph, could just as easily have happened to them. It was the luck of the draw, and he'd pulled the black ball. The Big Show and Kane slugged down the halls with ownership, eyes drawn on every single wrestler they passed. Before they might have been challenged, but now, people stood back, let them pass. The Authority's reign of terror had hit a hard truth – no one was safe, not now their wrath had been incurred.

There were whispers here and there about what Seth had done.

Some didn't believe it, thought it was a ruse, that the Authority were digging deeper with sharpened claws, to destroy all remnants of rebellion against their power. Others voiced their support in corners and away from prying ears, glad of the Shield's return. There were those select few who didn't know who to be more afraid of. The Shield had clashed with Evolution once and the results had been bloody; but what of a direct battle with the Authority? Whilst Team WWE had grasped a brief victory before, expelling them completely, it was Seth, the ultimate turncoat, who had brought them back in; to protect himself, to protect his cover until the time was right.

Until he thought the time was right at any rate. It wasn't fair of him – and he knew that, to have made everyone suffer for so long. It hadn't just been about the gold though – it was never just about the gold.

Seth himself was hidden away; out of the view of anyone up in the rafters of the XL Center. Below him, were thousands, below him, was everything. It felt as if he were clutching to the edge of a perilously sharp cliff face, with every chance of falling. The lights swung beneath his booted feet, and he hoped that the harness he'd secured would keep him safe. Everything depended on things going according to plan. He'd arrived in secret, unseen by friends, unseen by security. It had taken a helping hand from Dolph, who'd insisted on releasing himself from hospital to join in the games. He'd always been one of the few, to fight against the power, he was the one who'd thrown the Authority away, who'd taken everything a thousand times over and stood up, carried on and hit that one two three. Seth could remember it, the shock, the true disbelief he'd felt when it happened.

He'd not counted on losing then. He'd not planned.

But it was a snap back to reality and had taught him he had to plan for everything. It had been desperation which had driven him to threaten Edge. He'd almost been scared of himself, the lengths he'd go to for his schemes. He could have paralyzed a man forever, could have killed him.

The things he'd done, he knew he'd never be forgiven by most, and could only ask for it. He could make amends in the future; the present was about the Shield.

The pyrotechnics were fucking loud. You could appreciate them when you were down in the audience, back stage you could only hear them. But up in the heavens as he was, he saw them in all their glory, and perhaps for the first time appreciated the effort that went into those minutes. Setting off fireworks indoors was not smart – he'd found that out as a kid; he hadn't necessarily learned from it however...

Strapped to his back, was the title. The weight of it was a strange comfort. It was all darkness, save for the swinging of the lights below him, it was amazing how little penetrated where he was. Dolph had disappeared down into the arena to cause his own brand of mischief. He was thankful for the forgiveness so easily given after all that had happened. It seemed that Dolph was too good a man to cling to hate forever.

He was perched above the ring, and could see well. Eden stood in its center, microphone in hand. She was a smart woman – you had to be. Announcers needed eyes on the backs of their heads, needed to know exactly what was going on at all times. The card was always subject to change. Eden herself wore a pink dress that Seth could only just see when she moved, as he was near direct above her head.

'Please welcome, the COO of WWE – Triple H!'

Sometimes the woman sounded nearly almost exactly like Lillian Gracia, it was almost uncanny. But this was what Seth had been waiting for. He'd been up in the rafters since eleven in the morning for this, strapped in for safety, with naught but a hastily smuggled Big Whopper – courtesy of Dolph – to fill his stomach. Ah, sweet carbs.

'_Behold the king, the king of kings._'

He'd liked Motorhead once, but his enjoyment had been somewhat dampened by the thick skulled, richly suited bastard who strolled down that ramp with a shit eating grin on his face. He could see him rather well, the angle was just right. If he'd had eggs at that very moment...

It was almost amazing how childish he could be.

He looked so fucking smug. On his shoulder, was that sledgehammer which he'd become acquainted with on Monday. His ribs were still sore, and he'd known the agony of _that_ impact, let alone what had happened when the hammerhead had slammed into Roman's shoulder. He walked with his head and bulbous nose leading the way. He could almost hear the boos echo around the XL Centre. He seemed far too pleased with himself, far too confident, and Seth narrowed his eyes as the Game arrived at ring side, and pulled himself up through the ropes. The sledgehammer swung down to rest next to his leg and he took the microphone from Eden's hands.

'Welcome to Monday Night Ra – oh wait. No, maybe not. I'm sorry; I must have been confused there for a moment. You see it's been one hell of a week, and I'm starting to wonder if anything is as it should be. Raw had to be shut down because of the snow, and here we are, with our program for then, moved to now. So whilst this is Smackdown, it's not. It's pretending to be something it's not. Just like...well just like Seth Rollins.'

There was a massive cheer, and it made Seth's heart clench. He'd waited so long to hear that sound again. Those people, they were chanting his name now, over and over, begging for him to make an appearance.

'_Seth Rollins_. Seth Rollins. You know no matter how matter how many different ways I say it, I can't quite find a way that really describes him. You see Seth fooled me,' he looked down at the hammerhead, swung it a little, 'oh yes, yes he did. He thought it would be funny to make a fool of the Game. But I had the last laugh at the Rumble – didn't I? In fact, let's just remind everyone of what I did, just so everyone has it fresh in their minds.'

The Titanitron burst to life. The images of him breaking Dean's knee, of smashing the sledgehammer into Roman's shoulder rolled on by. Seth clenched his teeth, eyes shut, head away. He couldn't bear to see it again. It had been too much the first time. The Game didn't know what he was doing; he was playing with fire, poking the dragon which was already fucked off. This was not the time to be smart, this was not the time to smile and laugh. He was showing the torture of men Seth loved. He was _laughing_ about it.

'See that? That is what happens when you cross the Game. At the Royal Rumble, I reminded everyone of who I was. The Game! The King of Kings! I won't be toyed with, I won't be outsmarted and I won't be beaten. Seth Rollins! You want to play with me? You think your balls are big enough for this war? I know war! I created it, like I created _you_. I know how you think now you slimy bastard. I know your every move; I know how to counter every single twisted little scheme you have in that rotten head of yours. Believe me and believe that Seth Rollins. Everyone here knows what I'm capable of. I showed them at the Rumble. Mr Ambrose is out of action; a fractured knee. What a shame. _Roman Reigns_,' he nearly spat the name, 'has concussion and your precious pretty little Paige has picked a fight she won't win. She thinks she can just _join_ the Shield and won't be punished? She crossed the line, and I won't hesitate to make her suffer for her, and your mistake.

But she's not all. Because I'm going to take everything that matters from Seth Rollins – oh, that's right, chant his name! All of you! Let him hear it! Beg him to come out. He won't do it, you see, Seth Rollins does what is best for _him_ not for the WWE Universe. Will you still cheer when I've beaten his face into a bloody pulp, when I stand over him on the greatest stage of them all, Wrestlemania! Seth! Everything you know, and everything you love, I'm going to rip from your grasp. Including that title.'

Suddenly the Titanitron burst to static. Triple H turned to it in confusion. The screen cleared and focused in on a familiar, disheveled face. A hand was raised to the camera and clicked, once, twice, three times.

'Attention!'

The crowd went wild. Dean looked shit. Stubble prickled his face, his hair looked matted and he looked as if he hadn't slept for two days, most probably because he'd only just come to from surgery. Seth knew who was on the other end of that hand held camera, the ever beautiful and ever patient Lucia. How they'd conned her into agreeing to help was beyond Seth, but they'd left her with the camcorder and strict instructions. They'd even begged the good Sr Dr. Lawrence Dod to schedule the surgery sooner so Dean would have enough time to recover. It had all happened perfectly. Paige was hidden away separately, her expert hands ensuring that no one could stop the feed. Her laptop was a portal to hell, Seth was sure of it and damn pleased of it.

'Hey there Trips. Sure is nice of you to mention me, I guess that even a guy like you has to mention the invalids huh? But don't you worry. That whole little accident with my knee? All fixed and sitting pretty. You know what that means Trips? It means Dean Ambrose is on the mend. It means that _you_ should be very worried. Know why? Because I wanted grapes. And no one brought me any grapes. Isn't that a basic human right of everyone in a hospital ward, huh? I wrote emails to you Trips, to your wife, hey I even had a friend post a note through your door. But ignored. Why hurt a brother like that huh? Because I'm hurt, oh yeah, I hurt a whole lot but you know I like that pain. Yeah, it reminds me Trips that when I'm up, and when I'm out of this bed I have to stop it. And the only way I can think of doing that right now is by biting that fat fugly nose right off your face, and stuffing it right up your asshole. I might do that. Might make you prettier, but hey! Do you know what else is pretty?'

The camera pulled out a little. You could see Dean there in the surgery gown, IV plugged into his arm, but you could also see that golden title draped over his shoulder, his hands were taped up as if at any moment he would leap up and fight. He looked smug, so fucking smug, so pleased with himself. Dean had no desire for glory. He fought because he liked the pain, liked the battle of it. He enjoyed being the underdog and biting and clawing his way through survival. He went through the inferno and thumbtacks and chairs and blades because he thought it was _fun_. But there and then, he looked almost at home with that title on his arm. The crowd collectively took in breath, collapsed into screams and adoring cheers. Seth couldn't quite see the Game's face, but he was pretty sure he was fit to explode.

'Yeah, she's real nice Trips. I can see why you'd want her. But you're not allowed. See, my brother went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get his hands on her. He left her with me because he knows I know how to treat a lady. That I'll keep her safe and away from those piggy eyes of yours. So here's the deal Trips, you're not getting your hands on this title, simple as, because I decree. And if you want it,' Dean leaned toward the camera, 'come and have a go, if you think your balls are big enough.'

The camera cut out, and Seth wondered just how his friend was that lucid when he'd just come out of anesthetic. A horrible thought occurred to him that Dean might have insisted on not being put under, but surely the bastard wasn't that stupid. Then again...

The Titanitron returned to Triple H, who genuinely looked as if his head was about to burst. He was bright red, shaking from pure uncontrollable rage at being humiliated in such a way. Seth was worried – he'd said to Dean to just get the Game's attention, make him think he had the title, but he'd done way more than that. The Game looked down right murderous.

'Dean Ambrose! Your knee is the last of your worries! When I get my hands on you, I'll choke the insanity out of you! I'll break the madness out of your bones! I'll rip that tongue out of your mouth, I'll make you _watch_ as that title is pulled from your carcass.' The words were barely separate, all blurred into one enraged tirade. The microphone hit the mat and he dragged that sledgehammer after him as he stormed up the ramp.

Showtime.

Seth held his breath, he closed his eyes, and he jumped. Air rushed past, coils of rope tumbled after him, a prayer and knots and clamps all that would stop him from breaking his back, of him ending it all there and then. He felt himself stop, could barely hear anything other than the heartbeat of the arena, that torrent of adoration. He hovered a few meters above the ring mat, and pulled the title from his back, and a microphone from his belt.

'Whoa whoa whoa big guy!' he near laughed as the Game turned on the spot, white hot glare onto him. 'Now just where do you think you're going. If you want the title, surely you've got to come after the man who has it, right?' he held it so the lights reflected off it. 'Think I'd leave this little lady in Dean's filthy paws? Please. He dreams. Clearly his is a fake, got the real baby right here, and she's mine, all mine. Don't I look handsome with her on my arm?'

The audience approved. The Game was coming back now, a hoard of security hot on his heels. Timing. It was all timing, if any of them were too slow, or too quick, it wouldn't work. It had to work. This wasn't about winning. This wasn't about keeping a hold of the title. This was humiliation. This was the first step of payback. It tasted good. Security, all in their black shirts surrounded the ring on all sides, clambered up onto the apron, but Seth wasn't afraid. Not yet.

'Hey hey, don't listen to that asshole, he lied to you and played you like a bitch,' Roman's deep voice bellowed from the stage. He stood, dressed for a fight, microphone in hand, title hitched up on his shoulder. 'This title is where it belongs right now – on who _should_ have won the Rumble!' Roman looked a little too comfortable with the belt. Seth knew they'd already discussed it, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty screw his stomach. He loved the title – he'd worked so hard to get to it. But Roman wanted it too. When brothers fought over the things they desired, it tore them to pieces. He'd agreed to fight his brother for that precious gold. He couldn't hold it forever. But he wanted to.

Triple H seemed torn, unsure of whether or not to go after Seth, pursue Roman or travel to Dean. He waved his arms madly trying to direct traffic, half the security moved up toward Roman, the others clambered into the ring. Seth released himself from his harness, and held the title protectively in his paws. They were coming from all sides, and he found hands on him, wrestling him to the mat.

'Wait just one second!'

The crowd erupted. Up in the stands, spot light shining down on her, illuminating her like a diamond in the dirt, stood Paige. Seth only just managed to see her up on the screen when his head was forced down, the title snatched from his grasp, his hands held in place behind him.

'You don't think those two are honestly stupid enough to just waltz down to the ring with the title do you pumpkin? There's only one place safe enough to store the gold and that's with this chick.'

Paige raised gold into the air.

Four belts. The Game didn't know where to look, what to do. The thought seemed to strike him that Paige was right – the real belt wouldn't be close enough to touch.

'After her! Get after her!' he roared.

Seth felt the hold on him slacken as several members of the security abandoned him to give chase to Paige who disappeared into the audience. He rolled his shoulders and kicked out, knocking himself free of their grasp. He snatched the title away from the one who'd stolen it and grabbed a hold of the rope he'd fallen from.

'Now!' he roared.

The rope shot upward, dragged him up into the air. Camera flashes blinded him. He jolted to a halt, grip faltered and he started to slip, when a friendly hand grabbed his wrist, and hauled him up to safety.

'You got some nerve Rollins,' Dolph huffed, but he laughed through his words. 'I never seen him so angry. He's gonna be chasing you four until the end of the world now.'

'Or at least until the end of Raw,' Seth grinned, tried to steady his heart. He could see Roman now, he'd fought off security and had made a run for it. Pride washed over him. They'd done it.

'But who had the real belt?'

Seth just smiled at him.

Because that, was all part of the plan...


	14. Another One Bites The Dust

**((Here is another chapter for all you wonderful peoples! I hope that you enjoy it! I'm starting to feel bad for my characters. Clearly I'm horrible to them, but never mind, it's for the plot! Once again sorry about the delay, and please please let me know what you think of the chapter! Thank you very much!))**

It wasn't exactly safe for him to go wandering around the XL Center now that the Game had set his entire security on high alert. The audience had loved the whole scene, he could still hear them chanting for the Shield. That was it – that was what they wanted. They needed to be what was wanted, they needed to be what was sung on back to the Game. The word on everyone's lips needed to be _Shield_. They'd been gone so long, but not forgotten. They'd been on top of the mountain, it was going to be a long hard climb back, but it word be worth every single hurt, every stall, every strain.

There was some kind of power in the adoration of the fans. They were the people who decided the future of the WWE. They cheered for who they loved, booed for who they hated. Their decision and upheaval had found Daniel Bryan the champion before his neck had given out. Their love couldn't be bought, had to be earned. Seth knew it he'd been given their forgiveness at the Rumble, but it would take time for him to be the gold in their eye.

The real title was being untouchable.

The rafters were no longer safe – security had invaded his hiding place and searched every inch. But Seth was long gone. Connected to his friends through his phone, he'd hooked up a Bluetooth device to his ear and he could constantly hear the buzz of voices running through. Multi-way chat could have been confusing, but they'd played with this kind of technology before. It wasn't an exaggeration to say they'd been bred for this. Warfare was a terrible thing, innocent people were always caught in the crossfire, like Dolph. But there was one thing which was certain; there was always a winner. It may never be by a far margin but someone always came out on top.

It had to be the Shield.

There wasn't room for failure. Seth knew what was at stake, it wasn't just about their careers. As proven by Dean sat in that hospital bed, it was about their _lives_. If the operation hadn't gone well, then Dean could have lost use of his knee...well. Even then they didn't know the outcome yet. Later, when they visited, they would know. It hurt his ego, in a way, having no knowledge of something. But he couldn't possess it all; he knew that, and perhaps he'd have to keep reminding himself of the truth – he was no god. He wasn't omnipotent. He didn't have all the answers; he couldn't hold the powers of the universe in his hands. He was a man, and only had as much power as he did the support of the people he loved.

'_Seth I gotta get out of here. I'm having NXT flashbacks and it's not pretty_.' Roman's voice came through loud and clear over his headset. Seth couldn't help but grin to himself. The safest place to hide a guy like Roman was somewhere he'd be completely safe from prying male eyes. Paige had stowed him away in the women's locker room, hidden away and protected by one of the few people Paige genuinely trusted – Natalya. The third generation wrestler had taken Paige under her wing when she'd moved up to the main roster. '_It's all frills and tassels and shit_.'

There was no denying that Roman was a man's man. Girly things were beyond him. In many ways it was one of the reasons he and Paige got along so well – she didn't hold with 'that crap' and neither did he. The relationship between them all had been what had allowed him to be undercover for so long. They'd worked to keep each other in check, fought to hold onto their bond in secret, and when the shit started getting too much, Paige would kick their asses.

'It's only for now,' Seth soothed, 'you think I enjoy my present location?'

Few would have, he was sat in an unused dumpster. The smell was horrific, but some things were necessary for survival, though he was pretty sure that Paige was going to make him shower eight times before he was allowed to share the bed with her again. He was getting used to sitting in darkness, in some ways it was almost comfortable, save for the slime that coated his combats and seeped through the back of his shirt. Maybe ten showers was more accurate.

'_Least you have room to breathe. Nattie's thrown half their fucking wardrobe on top of me. I smell like a fucking drag queen_.'

Seth snorted; 'Don't let Dean smell you like that, his cock will get confused.'

'_His cock is already confused_.'

'True.'

'_You think he's safe right now?_'

'Triple H will be more concerned with finding us than going after Dean – but if he does, Lucia knows what to do.'

'_And what's that?_'

'Scream in Spanish and rouse the troupes. From what she was saying Dean has made friends with a lot of the kids on the paediatric ward.'

'_Is that legal?_'

'You do know Dean right?'

'_Of course I fucking do – he's great with kids. Don't think a hospital of all places would be too happy with him playing with them_.'

'Who's playing? He's developing an army of minions to take over the establishment.'

'_Sounds about right,' Roman chuckled, 'Just so you know the girls in here were talking about you earlier_.'

'Oh?' his voice echoed a little in the plastic bin. It was surprisingly roomy, but he wasn't looking forward to when someone actually decided to use it for its natural purpose. Besides, the belt was laid out next to him. 'Good or bad?'

'_Wondering why Paige put up with your shit for so long_.'

'I too often wonder this. Unfortunately I do not have the answers. It's becoming a bad habit of mine.'

'_Hm, does this mean you don't have a phase two of tonight? Because I ain't spending all of SmackRaw as a mannequin_.'

Seth's head moved against the back of the dumpster and he instantly regretted as what felt like rotten fruit stuck into his hair. He wrinkled his nose – the sooner he could get out, the better. Dolph had been the one to find the hiding place for him in the first place – and to his credit it was a good one, no one in their right mind would actually hide in a shitty dumpster. The smell alone would put off the goons and no doubt would make the Game's expensive suit crease. Fifty thousand security, every single man devoted to Triple H...every single one of them was a threat. They'd followed the power that could pay their cheques, the man that could guarantee their jobs. It was safe. The other wrestlers though, now they knew different. It was either fight, or be loyal. Seth knew which many would choose. The money was so good that outside of the bin, Kane and the Big Show had shiny tour buses waiting for them, and before Seth had taken him out, Randy Orton was drinking diamonds from a glass.

The very thought made him wince. He knew sooner or later Randy would strike. He'd kept to the shadows for now. He wouldn't stay away forever – revenge was a bitter taste the viper enjoyed. He didn't need more enemies, but he'd made so many.

'We can't make people follow us. I don't want them too. But the more people who think the same way we do, the safer we are. The Game can't fight the entire locker room. Even if they're just helping us in the wings like Dolph, it'll make this battle easier.'

'_They're scared Seth, few are idiots like us_.'

'Why should we be the only ones to die for a better tomorrow in this hell hole?'

He waited for Roman to laugh, but it didn't come. 'You know what we're doing is for the better of this company. If we can beat the Authority, if we can destroy it all, it changes everything. The title is just the start Roman.'

'_Keep it small Seth, keep it simple.' Roman warned, 'One piece at a time_.'

Seth closed his eyes and bashed his head against the wall of the dumpster. 'You're right...you're right...' power. He missed the power – he _craved_ it already. He'd given it up for this, for them. It was a cruel addiction, and he'd thrown that cup aside, but even now he wanted to lick the drops of that bittersweet wine from the floor. He knew he couldn't. There was no changing his mind. He had to remember who he was.

There was a massive thud from above.

Light poured in and Seth's eyes squinted as he looked up, blinded.

'We've found him! We've got him!'

'_Seth? What's going on? Seth!_'

He didn't answer, his Bluetooth knocked from his head as they grabbed him by the hair, the fabric of his shirt, they dragged him fighting and biting up and out. Pain exploded in his ribs, his legs as they started to kick. Hundreds of boots knocked his bones and split his lip. They didn't stop. He couldn't see. His arms were up to try and protect his face but were knocked away. His already weak ribs snapped.

A roar of agony echoed throughout the lot. Sweating and shaking, Seth curled in a ball as best he could. He knew that if he tried to fight back, he would be worse.

The lights above him blurred as the sea of black parted. His eyes started to swell shut as a well suited man stood over him, something gold and leather in his hand.

'Bring him.'

* * *

People were screaming. Shocked, horrified screams. He heard them, every single one. He could feel sweat, or blood, run down his face from his hair. He couldn't remember moving. But felt the surface of the stage and ramp grind his skin as they dragged him mercilessly. Someone's hand was knotted in his hair, pain that made his eyes tear from their swollen sockets. They had his arms, stopped and heaved him up into the ring. The familiar canvas didn't feel as welcoming as it had for so long. It wasn't his safety net. Today it was a bear trap.

He lay there, could barely breathe as feet appeared next to his head. He heard his own blood drip onto the mat.

'You didn't learn Seth. I warned you, and you didn't listen.' For a second the voice almost sounded sympathetic. 'I told you that you'd pay.'

He was brought to his knees in front of her, and he felt her stroke the side of his face.

'You'll never be pretty again Seth. I would have much preferred to have done this to your little wildcat, but it seems you're far easier caught. You're too distracted Seth. You want to be the hero, to save the day. But who saves the hero Seth? Who comes when Superman has fallen from the sky?'

She ceased his hair, twisted her fingers painfully into it, jerked him up so he could see that angular face of hers.

'We will have what we want Seth. Right now, we're just getting started with you. We want that belt. The one you had wasn't real. Tsk tsk, it's very rude to play games with us Seth. You realize that now don't you?' she nodded his head for him. Her voice echoed from that stupid microphone she kept seemingly glued to her hand. But she lowered it now, and he could only just hear her over the disgruntled crowd. 'To the ropes.'

They moved him, and he bucked, but was beaten down. Clicks snapped his arms to the upper ropes and left him hanging. He could barely stand.

'Look at him! Look at Seth Rollins! This is what he's become! This is what happens when you fight against us! We do what's best for business Seth, and right now, you're not it. What is, is that the Authority, that _my husband_ takes back the belt from you. You're not a worthy champion for this company. All good things come to tragic ends Seth, and now this is yours. This is for the good of the WWE.'

His arms alone kept him upright, the cuffs that bound him were as unforgiving as her voice. _Stop fucking talking_, _no one cares who you are. No one gives a shit about what you've got to say. _

'Roman Reigns! Paige! You have a choice! Bring your belts to me, right here in this ring, right now! Or this isn't just Seth Rollins last night in the WWE, it's his last night _on earth_.'

She near spat it. He felt as the shadows of security loomed over him.

Roman's music hit.

Seth closed his eyes. _Roman no...don't...don't give in. Don't give it to her. I'm not worth it. We fought so hard for this. Don't give it all up for me._

'Stephanie,' Roman's voice bellowed throughout the arena. The tone was unmistakable. He was ready to kill. 'Let him go Stephanie. Let my brother go, and let him walk away. If you value your billion dollar lifestyle, and don't want be sipping your champagne through a _straw_, let him go.'

Seth couldn't see his brother. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing. He could only pray that Roman didn't do something stupid.

'Roman, I really don't think you're in the position to be making threats,' Stephanie countered. She clicked her way over to Seth's side and held his chin. 'I'm this close to Seth, and you're all the way up that ramp. If someone is getting hurt, it's Seth. If you make one move, I can have him swallow his own teeth. Is that what you want Roman?'

'I won't tell you again Stephanie.'

'Hmmm. I don't think I'm afraid of you Roman. Do you know why? Because you're alone. Your precious Shield are scattered. You're one man. What can you possibly do to me?'

'I'm not alone Stephanie!'

Seth somehow managed to turn his head, he opened his eyes a little, as much as he could, and through the blur he made out Paige as her music hit and she joined Roman on stage.

Stephanie laughed. It was a cruel sound which was possibly fed by the tears of orphans.

'The two of you? Oh Roman, Paige. You're making me laugh. I have twenty members of security with me right now. This is your army? Two?'

Apparently not; bodies moved out onto the stage, at least ten of them.

All female.

'_This_ is my army Steph. I'm thinking of calling them Roman's Angels, what do you think ladies?'

Seth tried not to laugh, tried to save himself the pain, but he snorted, a smirk on his busted mouth. Stephanie didn't seem to know what to say, but turned the same lovely shade as her husband usually did.

'Get them! Get them all!'

The crowd exploded. The female wrestlers stormed the ramp, the ring. They held nothing back, and to the horror of Stephanie, the security didn't know what to do. He could barely see who did what and where, but he felt something. A complete and insane gratitude to the women of the WWE, because collectively, they had come together to fight back. Whether or not it was at the bequest of his friends didn't matter. They'd done it because they wanted to.

They wanted to take back what was theirs.

'Seth! Seth can you hear me babe?' Paige, her hands were on his face. 'Seth, come on talk to me.' Her hand smacked his face so hard he almost blacked out.

'That hurt,' he whimpered.

In relief her lips crushed his.

'Paige let's save that for later, come on, we need to get Seth out of these.'

He must have lost consciousness for a moment, because when he came to, he was free, and leaned against Roman's shoulder, his head to the side, other arm across Paige's shoulders. All around them were the women, stood defensive at the ropes. He could almost feel their fierceness. This was their yard tonight.

'Where's Stephanie?'

'Gone, she bolted when we all hit the ring.'

Seth nodded grimly, 'Sounds about right...where are the titles?'

'Safe.'

That was all that mattered.

'Let's get you out of here...to the hospital.' Roman muttered. But as they turned, made to exit the ring, the Titanitron burst to life. A hand clicked three times.

'Attention.'

The Game.

Seth felt his heart fall through his remaining ribs.

The Game said nothing more. He just smiled, and the camera panned round to an empty hospital bed. The IV drip swung, crayons scattered over the sheets and floor, the table upturned. A phone lay crushed on the floor, blood splattered.

'No, no no no no no, Dean!' Seth tried to struggle free, he had to get to him, he had to find him, had to help him. But Roman and Paige held him back, because they both knew, that there was nothing they could do.

The Authority had Dean.


	15. Deeper Than Love

**((Sorry for the gap between postings – busy busy with work! But here is another for you lovely lovely people. I hope that you enjoy it and thank you for your support and comments, please keep them coming!))**

There was a strange darkness over him. It weighed more than any gold. He knew it so well, because it had never left him. With every single blow he'd thrown, every cruel, terrible thing he'd said and done, it had punctured him further, a slow needle digging through his flesh, heading for his heart to finally push through the very venom he'd spat at others.

Guilt.

It shook his bones and the loose brain inside his stupid thick skull. He was falling behind. His judgement clouded. He'd not seen, not predicted, had grown lazy and assumed that all would be well, that he could throw his own assault and not expect any retaliation. He'd thought the Authority too tunnel-visioned, that their primary target would always be his own physical body.

They'd grown too smart.

He'd let them.

'Seth?'

He wasn't even deserving of that name anymore. Seth Rollins. How he _despised_ that name. It meant failure. It meant betrayal. It meant every negative thing the universe could offer him. What positive was there to this?

'Seth talk to me, please babe, I'm begging you.'

She was in front of him, but he didn't see her. He could hear her beg him to respond, but what could he offer her? Dean Ambrose. Dean fucking Ambrose, was gone. It was his fault, all his fault. He should have planned better – of course the Game would have gone after the damaged soldier, the one who couldn't be protected because they were only so many men, and you couldn't fight a war with one man. He felt her hands on the side of his head, realized her hair was falling over him like the cold, cold rain that hit the windows.

She had eyes dark as cloud, and they saw him. They didn't look away in disgust, they didn't hate him. He could see their shine, their love and devotion despite his thousands of mistakes. Why did she still want him?

They'd lost their brother.

A new face, a different haze next to her, grim faced and stone jawed, but there, in those eyes, the same. That unconditional love; they were too good for him. Why didn't they run? Run far away before he ruined all their lives. He could live if it was just his own he destroyed, but one by one he knew that they would fall. No matter how he tried to protect them, no matter how he tried to fight back tooth and claw, eventually they would disappear into the shadow of his own failure. What did it matter what the Authority did, when his own plans would crumble like salt?

'Seth, I'm telling you this once, and once only. Snap out of it.'

Fingers clicked in front of his face.

_Click...click...click...Attention!_

'I failed.' It tasted bitter on his tongue just admitting it.

Paige shook her head, her eyes smudged where she'd wasted her tears on him...no...she would have cried for Dean; Seth would recover, she'd have faith in that. She'd always had such faith in him – no God could interrupt her belief.

'No, no. We should have seen it coming, we should have thought. We could have all protected him Seth, it's not you, its not just down to you. We're all to blame.'

'We wanted to play our games, and so did Dean. He knew what could happen.' Roman's gruff reassurance seemed dull. 'There are casualties in war Seth, Dean was the obvious target.'

He moved and the world seemed to right itself as he realized he'd been laying flat. A bed, mattress beneath him thin but comfortable, and the gown he wore told him everything he needed to know. What a world, what a place to end up – the scene of the crime.

'The hospital, we're here...we have to find him.'

He made to move but pain exploded in his ribs. Everything throbbed, but nothing more than the disappointment which swelled in his gut like a lead balloon. Roman held him down with gentle hands.

'You're not going anywhere yet.'

'I'm fine.'

'You look like road kill.'

'That's what I was going for.'

'Seth stop, you're starting to sound like Dean,' Paige tried to take his hand but Seth batted her away.

'We can't just sit here!'

'Don't yell at her.' Roman's level voice was hard to read. He seemed too calm for what had happened, he seemed too restrained. The buzz all around them all was suited to the chaos in Seth's mind. He could barely see, but knew from the sounds, from the cries and the movements that the hospital was under scrutiny. A patient had been snatched from their care. Poor, poor Lucia... 'We'll get him back Seth.'

'How can you be so calm?' Seth snapped. Instantly he regretted it.

Roman regarded him carefully, chose his words as he always did, 'Calm? Seth, I'm ready to _murder_. But right now, we need to sort you out. Dean's strong, he'll be ok, for now, he'll be ok. They wanted to make an impact and they have. Anything they do, he'll be alive at the end of. This isn't a killing game; not yet.'

The sheer thought was enough to make him physically sick. The Authority wanted revenge and they wanted the power back into their hands. As long as the title was in the Shield's grasp, they were desperate. Desperate men were dangerous, and with Triple H's notorious temper and ego, time was all they had. Seconds could be game changers. Years ago, it would have been stupid to think that this was a complex world. Now, it was so easy to see how simple it all was.

Power was all consuming, power chose who lived and who died, and what happened in between.

Seth's fingers reached up and touched his swollen face, tried to trace the jaw he'd once known so well.

'You're lucky it's not broken.' Paige said tenderly, this time she managed to hook his finger and clung on tight. 'They got your nose though...and some ribs. Mostly it's bad bruising. The Shield are built out of adamantium.'

Seth explored his mouth with a tongue.

'Missing some teeth,' a couple of molars.

'You could have _died_ Seth, when we saw the state of you...' her voice crumpled but she swallowed and composed herself. She was so much stronger than him. He was just a fucking parasite feeding off of her. 'When I get my hands on Stephanie, I'm ripping those ovaries straight through her abdomen, she's not deserving of being a woman.'

The door to the room suddenly swung open, and in bustled Lucia. Poor, beautiful and bruised Lucia; her right eye was swollen and purple, butterfly stitches down her forehead. But she looked straight at all three of them in turn, and before he could move, she grasped Roman into an embrace, her head against his arm as she cried. He let her, and gently stroked her head until she ran out of mirth.

'Mr Ambrose, they took him! I tried, I tried to shout but no one came, they took him away.'

'It's not your fault Lucia, it was unfair of us to expect so much of you,' Roman muttered. He wiped her tears away. She couldn't have been younger than fifty. She'd bonded with Dean, you could see it in her face, the fear that she had for him. They'd entangled her into this, and apologies weren't enough. What could be said to her? What could reassure her that this was something that they would win? That they'd have Dean back safe and sound, and they'd all laugh it away in the end?

'You did what you could, and we thank you for that.'

'Mr Rollins,' Lucia sniffed, 'the man, he told me to tell you this is just the start.'

A shiver rolled down Seth's tattooed spine. He closed his eyes. His ribs ached, heart and lungs just as much. Had he swallowed too much gold and now it was dragging him down? His hunger for it had caused this. Glory had seemed such a simple end. But the beginning of it all, the brotherhood he'd left behind, had strung along were suffering now for his greed. He'd played the greatest game of chess in history, but now he was taking easy losses. These weren't pieces, they were people, and he was playing with their lives just to protect the title.

'Seth I know what you're thinking, and before you say it, we're not abandoning you for this.' Paige muttered, her gentle lips pressed against the side of his bruised skull. 'We told you before, we knew what we were heading into, and we're walking next to you willingly. This isn't just _your_ fight, no matter how much you think so. It's not just _you_ who needs to suffer. I'll take my pain with pleasure, and I'll fight forever, just to keep us all together. The title is a beautiful thing Seth, and those who possess it have the ability to change all the rules. Together, we can beat them, I know we can. Not _you_ but _we_. You, me, Roman, Dean, Dolph, the girls in the locker-room and those who haven't raised their voices yet...we're all ready for change.'

Lucia moved closer to Seth, she took his other hand and kissed the busted knuckles gently.

'You will find Mr Ambrose; tell him I am sorry I could not help him.'

He looked at her curiously, 'Why are you so kind to us Lucia? All we've done is cause you trouble.'

'I see children every day. Sometimes they have mother and father to love them and care. Sometimes they have no one. I see you four, and I see the lost ones. You have each other, but still are running. Mr Ambrose, he does not run. He loves you all. I never seen such love, even in the eyes of parents. You are a family, and that is worth any kindness I have.'

She squeezed his hand tight and let go, body towards the door.

'You find Mr Ambrose.'

'We will, Lucia. I promise.'

It seemed to be enough for her. She left without another word. An uneasy quiet settled on them all. Her words hurt. He knew that Dean saw them as his brothers, but it was so easy to forget what had happened to him long before they'd met. His life had been full of nothingness and the cruel realities of life. Half of his scars had been cut into him before he'd even seen wrestling ropes. To fight for so long on your own was hard. They owed it to him, because Lucia was right. They were a family. This wasn't about a piece of gold around the waist – that was just a prop.

It was about the Shield.

'We find him. You heard the lady.' Seth, ignoring Paige's protests, moved himself round on the bed, and forced himself up. Shaking legs complained and groans of pain left his lips. He near fell but she rushed to steady him, to hold him up as she always had.

'You can barely stand.'

'Any pain I feel right now is nothing compared to what Dean could be going through.' Seth swallowed his dry throat wet, somehow manoeuvred himself away from her, stood on those unsteady feet – like a child, it felt as if he were walking for the very first time. But now he knew that if he fell, someone would catch him. He'd almost forgotten their bond in the time he'd spent away living that other life, being that other Seth Rollins. But one old woman's eyes had seen what was sewn between them, a bond pulled so tight he could feel their elation and their agonies. 'We leave this hospital, and we search. We ask anyone who might know, we fight for answers if we have to.'

'You need to rest, Seth. We have our mouths and our feet. Let us do the leg work for now. You, you're going to heal those bones.' Roman shook his head, 'Right now you'll only slow us down. You have to trust us.'

'I do.' Seth nodded strongly, 'I do trust you both. But I ain't staying in this place one second more. I don't feel safe here.'

'Then we'll take you home.'

Home, home was on the Mississippi River, where he could practically smell the mud over the city of Davenport. His house, hidden in Prospect Park, seemed a long way off from the tiny hospital room. The very idea of returning was bittersweet – to be out of action, to be away from everything was sludge in his stomach. He wanted to be at the center of this storm, but they were right. There, in the condition he was in, he would be slow, any battle he would be the Achilles heel. The Game was playing at old school war, and taking out the weak limbs.

He couldn't afford to be one of them. He'd be safer in his own home than he would be in the hospital. He knew this.

Roman moved forward and reached out a hand to Seth.

'We won't leave you behind, you'll know everything. Don't think we'll forget you.'

Seth bit the inside of his mouth to stop his tongue. There was no leader in the Shield. He'd always tried to enforce that idea. They'd all had their disagreements, each thinking they headed the group at different times. They were a unit, they thought as one, fought as one. No leader, just one solid direction. But even then, with that reassuring thought moving round his brain at breakneck speed, he already felt isolated from this operation. His brains were what set their footsteps rolling, this time...they would be working without him.

It was humbling.

He reached out his hand and took his brother's, clung on tight for support.

'I know.'

Paige was already on her phone, magic fingers working quickly to find him a route to Iowa. How she'd developed her skills had always been a mystery to him, skills she kept to herself. He'd known for a long while that there were some supposed bad connections in her family, but she kept them quiet. He knew that even if there was no space on a flight, she'd find him room. It was this strange power she had. Computers were her bitches; as was anyone on the other end of a phone. She quickly left the room to talk, and the brothers were left to face one another.

'Do you blame me for what happened to him?'

He had to know.

Roman closed his eyes and shook his head slowly; his free hand fell onto Seth's shoulder.

'We're all responsible for each other. And you're no psychic. You can't predict everything. I've always had complete faith in every single plan you've made for us. I was never given a reason not to. But maybe...maybe now we all need to put our skulls together, and not just rely on yours.'

He would have felt insulted if he hadn't known deep down that Roman was right. His own brain was a factory, some great computer; an entire cosmos trapped inside a human head, but with it was his ego and his flawed naivety. He'd lost his ability to predict several outcomes and just chosen the one he liked.

He needed to change, they all did.

Something vibrated. Seth felt for pockets which weren't there, and blinked when Roman pulled his phone out of his pocket.

'Put it there for safe keeping.'

Grateful, Seth took it. A message.

Joey.

There were no words, indeed in the whole time he'd known him, he'd never heard Joey speak once, or even write anything down. Instead there was a simple picture. It was half obscured, taken in secret, no doubt from behind the lapel of his jacket. The image was a little blurred, but even without his glasses, Seth could see what he needed to.

There was no sign of Dean, instead the back end of a car.

The number plate.

'Roman, write this down.' He showed the picture to his friend. Roman blinked.

'What?'

'I think Joey's trying to help us. This car, it must belong to Triple H, it might help us get to Dean.'

'Or he's playing you.'

Seth shook his head. 'No. Mercury and Noble are good men. I'd trust my life with them.'

It seemed to be enough to convince him, if only just. Roman obediently wrote down the plate onto the back of his hand as Paige re-emerged into the room.

'Your flight is in four hours babe. We need to get you to the airport pronto.' From the side of the bed, she lifted a duffle bag. 'Clothes, passport and wallet are all in here.'

'You guys planned this didn't you?'

They helped him dress, and they walked him through that hospital and signed him out. The rain hadn't stopped, and served to match his mood. The wind caught his hair and wetted his skin like sweat as they waited for a cab to take him to the airport. Paige hung on to him, head to his shoulder.

'Never thought I'd be going home and leaving you all to deal with my mess.'

'Stop thinking, you think too much.' She whispered, she didn't look at him, but straight ahead at the dreary cityscape. The world seemed to melt into one gray mass, dripping from the corners and sweeping along the roads.

'Paige -,'

'Shut up.' She silenced his torn mouth with a sweet kiss, unprejudiced against the injury. 'You heard Lucia. We're family, and family always clean up each other's shit. I should know.'

'Paige -,'

'I'll come and see you. As soon as you're settled, and we find anything, I'll be on that plane, and I'll be with you.'

'Paige -,'

'What?'

'I love you, I love you so much.'

She finally looked at him, fingers smudged his lips, 'I know.'

It brought on his crooked grin, and under the black umbrella she'd filched, they waited for that taxi.


	16. A Different Kind Of Gold

**((Hello hello! I'm very sorry for how long it's been since I last updated this story! There have been a lot of things getting in the way, but hopefully now I'm back on track and I should be able to keep on top of all of my stories! In particular this one! I hope you all enjoy this new chapter into Seth's story! Thank you everyone for your patience, it's only a short chapter, but an update none the less!))**

Despite his reputation as a high-flyer, he wasn't that big on being fifty thousand feet in the air. He wasn't a nervous passenger as such, but he found he thought too much about the things that could go wrong. If he slept, it was fine, if – he could not sleep. Of all the things in the world, he couldn't even close his eyes – all he could find to see was that empty hospital bed. Empty, save for the blood and crayon stains – those fucking crayons. It was what hurt most, to see Dean in one of his most innocent, lowest moments being stolen away. He trusted them to keep him safe – but then...

Who could he blame?

Everyone, he could blame everyone in the whole world but he knew it came back to him. Roman and Paige could try and convince him otherwise, but he couldn't shift the blame to anyone else. The Game had taken advantage of his inability to be everywhere at once, for him to have his eyes on everyone, keep people safe. He'd seen his weaknesses.

Seth rubbed his face wearily, he felt like he'd aged a hundred years. His body ached. It surprised him almost how dull it was – considering what they'd done to him, he didn't feel that bad physically; sick to his stomach, sick as a dog, sick as the fucking plague. If it was anything, he was lucky he wasn't. The flight was cramped, hot with all those bodies. The woman next to him was asleep, oblivious to his struggle. He was envious of her. If she could be so peaceful (save for the gulp of air he mistook several times as a snore) why couldn't he settle?

Was it all his fault?

He could count every star outside of the window. He could try and sort through the clouds but there was such a fog in his mind. It was heavy, wet and humid. All these years he'd been a director of a cosmos and now he could barely even think straight. He sank down into the seat and his eyes fell onto the buttons on his arm rest: rewind, play, pause, stop, fast forward, volume. If only he could just push one of them, any single one. He could take himself back, post himself at Dean's hospital bed to stop him being taken. He could pause the world and just try and catch up with it all, he was lagging so far behind he shouldn't have been in the race at all. Stop? God if he could just _stop_. He'd not realized how exhausted he was. Maybe he needed the shit beaten out of him just so he could slow down and catch his breath. Or maybe he could use the last of his energy and fast forward – dash past everything cruel, everything painful and find a scene he liked.

Volume?

He gave the woman next to him a sideways glance as she took another walrus like bark of air. She was a skinny little thing, but had the lungs of a whale. He studied her. She wasn't very old, perhaps mid-twenties, with a bob of brown hair, thick rimmed glasses that were somehow skewed. Whilst she was mostly covered, it was difficult to ignore the chest tattoo that ran over her throat and disappeared down into her dress. It was a stunning piece of work, ink that the artist had taken great care over. The hourglass that sank into her breast was winged, but broken, the sands trickling down below the fabric. Poppies and roses bloomed at her collar, and died and wilted at her dress. He was so fascinated by the colour and the skill involved that he didn't notice when her head rolled and she woke.

'See something you like?'

There was something European in her tongue, Polish perhaps, and she straightened herself, her glasses and pulled her cardigan back up to her shoulder. Her eyes were near black, and had this incredible depth – and he couldn't help but think back to Paige. She'd waved to him from under that black umbrella as the taxi pulled away, her sadness reached out and kissed his face. He hated being away from her, being away from any of them. But there was a difference. He loved his brothers, but was so completely in love with Paige it actually hurt to think about it. She'd bulldozed her way into his heart in NXT. People had no idea what she was capable of when she'd first arrived. But she'd chosen him from the very start, helped him, pushed him, forced him to be his very best. He'd hated her some days for what she did to him.

'You're missing someone,' she observed, 'flying away? Or flying to?'

'Away. Not by choice.'

She nodded, and he knew she understood. 'My husband, he's staying to look after his father, but me? I need to look after our kids, can't leave them with their aunt forever.' She gave him a small smile and reached out to tap his hand. The contact surprised him and he flinched. She blinked and looked over the pieces of him that were exposed. He was a mess and he knew it, but it was almost as if she didn't notice. 'My eldest – twenty, he thinks he's king of the world, and he can look after everyone and himself.' This time she shook her head, but there was a chuckle with it, loving, tender, it was clear her kids were her entire world, 'he told me '_mom don't you worry. I can look after Monika, I can look after Tomas. Don't you worry.'_ I said to him that ok, he can look after them. But if he needed help, he go to his aunt Jo. First night Tomas is sick he runs to Jo.' She smiled. 'Silly boy, he'll be a great man one day, but he can't do everything yet!'

'My brother is missing.' He didn't know why he blurted it out. It just came from nowhere. He paused, bit his already split lip.

The hand which had tapped his, stopped, skin against skin; she didn't stare at him, instead the contact said more than she could. He hung his head, almost in shame, and finally, after holding it in, of being strong, he put his head in his hand, and the tears rolled. He wasn't embarrassed, not until her hand was on his shoulder, until she shooed away a air hostess. He was quiet, save for the jagged breaths, and all that while, she didn't let go of him. She let him get it out, this perfect stranger, there when he needed her. He couldn't have done this in front of Roman, in front of even Paige. For them he had to be as strong as he could, for all his panic, for all his fear and his loathing, his rage and his promise, he'd never cried in front of them.

'Are you sure?' she whispered.

Seth swallowed his dry throat wet and nodded slowly, sniffed and wiped the salt from his face. He ran his hands through the tangle of his bi-coloured hair and sat back in his seat.

'He was taken,'

For a moment she was very still, and then, she changed how she held his hand, so that their fingers connected.

'My name is Ola,' she said, and shook his hand gently.

'Seth,'

Carefully she let go of him, and clearly unsure of how to continue, she picked her words very cautiously. He appreciated it, God only knew how he did.

'Is there...anywhere he could be that you'd know?'

Seth couldn't help but shrug, 'He never stayed in one place. The person who stole him...he's a very rich man. Could have sent him anywhere in the world and I wouldn't know.'

To his complete surprise, Ola shook her head. 'That wouldn't make sense.'

'I'm sorry?'

'We feel safest and most in danger at home. Rich men don't like effort. If he was lost in Connecticut, chances are he would still be there now.' She had this little frown on her face and she tapped a pierced lip in thought. 'People are often found where you least expect to look. Either your friend is still there, or they would take him to where you wouldn't think to look –.'

'Like his own house.'

Ola nodded slowly, 'Possibly.'

Las Vegas. Greenwich.

Dean was hardly ever found in his Nevada home. The Game had the property to hide him. Two places he could possibly be. Either side of the United States, there were only a handful of days to find him until Raw, when undoubtedly the Authority would parade him. Would it be better to wait? For the first time in what felt like hours, Seth's brain started to work. It started to chug sluggishly through that fog in his head. They could wait...but what state would Dean be in when Raw came round?

They could make it easier for themselves...but whenever had that been their way of doing things?

He wanted to get straight on the phone, patch through to Roman, to Paige, tell them he was changing course. He wasn't going home, as soon as he touched down in Iowa, he was getting straight on a plane to Las Vegas. Dean could easily be in Greenwich, but there was just as much of a chance of him being bundled back to his home. The one place no one would think to look for him. Stephanie was that smart, and his cheek still stung from that fact. Smarter than him?

That would remain to be seen. He sniffed once again and then grabbed Ola by the slim shoulders and kissed her forehead.

'Thank you, you've made me stop, made me think.'

She grinned as he released her. 'I didn't do anything Seth, you did. A few words were all you needed to hear is all. It's like I tell Mikael when he thought he'd failed with Tomas – he did the right thing to take him to his aunt. So whilst he thought he'd been a bad big brother, he'd really done the best he could. That's all we can do as people, isn't it?'

'What angel gave birth to you?' he couldn't quite believe the luck he'd had. What possibility could have planted her next to him when he needed her most? There was the cosmos, and then there was something more. He'd never thought himself religious, and he didn't now. He was fucking lucky – and ahead, when he took a walk into Nevada, he'd need all the luck he could get in the city of sin. Dean had chosen it for the life and the madness to dig some holes to bury some roots, and no matter how far away he was, he always dreamed of those Nevada hills.

'Her name was Dominika, and she was no angel,' Ola chuckled, 'but a fine mother. She taught me many things, most important of all, is that there is always gold under shit.'

'Wise words,'

He melted back into that uncomfortable economy seat and closed his eyes. Not to sleep, not to dream but to think, to plan.

They'd thrown him off with what they'd done, maybe that had been their plan all along, make him fall deep down into the pits of despair and doubt, make him feel like he shouldn't be running this operation. His was not the only brain among them. They were one mind – and if he let his fail, then he was letting them all down. But he wasn't going to do that.

He refused to be beaten by a bitch and a bastard in shiny shoes and business suits.

_I'm coming for you Dean._

Las Vegas was hours ahead of him, and so he let himself drift, as did the woman next to him. And when the air hostess next passed them, she paused, and smiled, as the two strangers slept with interlocked fingers, hands held. There was nothing he could ever do to thank her for what she'd done. But he was sure he would think of something by the time they reached Iowa...even if it was only small. She'd saved him from himself, without thought, without objective.

There were mysteries that couldn't be solved, but she'd done it.

_There is always gold under shit_.

In his sleep, Seth smiled.


	17. Somewhere Only We Know

**((Here's another update for you guys! It's a little on the short side, but it's another chapter none the less! Is Seth getting in over his head? Should he just do what Paige told him to? Probably, but then, that would be far less interesting. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and please tell me what you think!))**

Needless to say, Paige wasn't the slightest bit impressed with him when he told her that he wasn't going home, that, in fact, he was still in the Eastern Iowa Airport, waiting for his flight to arrive to go cross country. He seemed to recall words such as 'twat' and 'unbelievable fuck up' but they could have been lost in translation, he was still in a daze and sometimes that Norwich accent jumbled in his brain. She could have said nothing but wonderful things to him, praising how clever he was, how brave he was, or, like he thought she had, she'd called him an absolute idiot. Either, or, really. Little by little he was muddling himself up in the web that the McMahon's were spinning, and he had to hand it to them, they'd played him, they'd played him really well.

But they were giving him something to work with, play with. They were terrible people, who thought that they were doing _the best for business_. Maybe they were – after all, the public saw what was played out on the TV screen. For the audience, it was some great story filled with violence and drama, but beyond the cameras, they had no idea. They didn't seem to realize that after the show ended, the shit carried on. The feud between the McMahons and the Shield – it was all good fun for them. That was where they succeeded – they gave the people something to sink their teeth in to, and the same people threw the dollars their way to keep the show from never ending. Seth could applaud them for that.

For much of the flight to Nevada, he slept. He needed the energy. He'd pointed Paige and Roman toward the properties of the Game. He had little doubt in his mind that they'd somehow be able to find their way inside. Through wiliness or brute force was up to them, and he was almost looking forward to hearing their story when this was over. They were in mostly working order, but the Iowa native needed to conserve what he had. His body was at the stage of constantly aching, and he'd never wanted a hot bath more. There would be time later for that. All the little things could wait. Crossing the state lines, he counted them off in his head. It was strange to him, that he didn't dream. He heard everything that was going on around him, but didn't react, sunk in some meditation where nothing could break through. His hat pulled low over his swollen eyes, arms crossed over his broken rips which groaned with every breath. The pain he could deal with – it was waiting that killed him.

A thousand years could have passed and it would have felt exactly the same as the three and a bit hour flight. He'd picked the fastest, and consequently the most expensive flight he could. He must have travelled with every airline throughout the years. Allegiant was just another name stamped on the side of a plane.

If they'd taken Dean to Las Vegas, they would have had to fly.

Dean hated flying. He always preferred to drive for five days than to go up in the sky.

_Humans ain't supposed to fly Seth, we'd be born with fuckin' wings stapled to our backs if we were. There'd be a huntin' season for humans. I ain't goin' on a plane Seth, rather superglue myself to a rat._

He moved a little in his odd doze, nudged himself awake in the process. His eyes opened a little, he sniffed, and rolled his shoulders. The seat next to him had been empty the whole while he'd been awake before. But now, as his eyes adjusted to the low light of the plane, he could see there was someone there, in that aisle seat. They watched him. He'd taken off his glasses to sleep, but now as he moved to put them on once again, the body stood up and moved off, moved away down the aisle.

'Hey!' Seth, blinked into the lenses, seemed to recognize the bulk. He scrambled to undo his seat belt. 'Hey, come back!' he stood, hands on the seats. Most were empty, but the other passengers turned to stare at him. He left his seat, started to shimmy after the man. He was catching up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Seth stopped, half turned, to find one of the air hostesses; she didn't look pleased.

'Sir can I please ask you to return to your seat?'

'There was a man.'

'There are many men on this flight sir.'

He shook himself free, turned to see where he'd gone...but nothing. He'd disappeared among the sea of seats. He hissed through his teeth and glared at the woman.

'He was watching me as I slept. Then when I woke he left.'

'Perhaps you were imagining things sir. I saw no one.'

She had a forceful kind of voice that reminded him of his grandmother – you didn't want to cross or upset her because the consequences weren't worth it. She looked a little older than him with pale blond hair and glassy eyes. He didn't like her. Not one bit.

'I imagined nothing.'

'Please return to your seat, sir. The other passengers are becoming uncomfortable. Please lower your voice.'

The last thing he needed was to be arrested on a flight. He flicked his eyes around and noted one of the other passengers had risen from his seat, a golden badge flashed at his waist. Seth sniffed, his nose felt wet and he realized it had begun to run blood.

'Sir -,'

'I know, I know.' he muttered. Seth pushed past her and found himself in his seat once again. He stuffed tissue up his left nostril and closed his eyes, a beating headache crushing his brain a little too hard. Maybe it was stupid flying again like this. They'd looked at him wearily when he'd bought the ticket, asked if he was medically cleared to fly – when he'd pointed out he'd just come in on a plane, they could hardly say no. He rubbed his temples. He needed to slow down, his body was screaming no at him, giving him so many warning signs...there was only so long he could ignore them. He opened his eyes and rested his head back against the headrest. But as he did, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

There, on that empty seat next to him.

Photos; three or four of them. He reached over hesitantly, plucked them between his fingers, dreading what might look back at him.

Dean.

He looked to be unconscious, slumped against a wall. It was too dark to make out much more, and each photo was near enough exactly the same image. No, wait, not quite. Seth squinted. Dean's hands were in front of him, seemingly rested on the ground to keep him upright, but in each shot, his fingers were different. Sometimes they were bent up, sometimes down. Three, one, five, one; or some combination of those. Dean wasn't stupid, and Seth knew it was no coincidence that his hands were that way. He was trying to tell him something. But who'd brought the pictures? Were they trying to help? Were they just delivering a well meaning threat?

It made him nervous, to know someone was watching. There was someone on this plane who knew where Dean was when he didn't.

The flight arrived half an hour late due to poor visibility, but when he did eventually leave Las Vegas McCarren International Airport, it was beginning to darken. There was a cruel cold in the air that he'd never associated with Nevada. The state was all desert, but night could bring a cutting pressure that made his skin crawl. The lights were bright as he waited his turn at the taxi rank. Summerlin, where Dean's apartment was, was a half hour ride away and he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

You could have laughed at the fact that Dean had chosen somewhere so _public_ to live. He liked his own space, so to live somewhere so community orientated it boggled the mind. But maybe...maybe it was a silly thing to question. He was right next to the mountains, the trails where he could hike and mountain bike – all those things he could do alone. It seemed almost cliché, but he knew that Dean, when he had time, would sometimes train among those dusty hills and be at one with the wilderness. Maybe, when this was over, they could all come to Las Vegas together, eat up the night on the edge of the Red Rock Canyon National Park. They'd made a promise years ago that they'd all go hiking together before the incident. He'd keep that, when this was done.

'Where to mate?'

'Summerlin, Carlisle.'

The driver nodded.

Why did he seem to spend half his life in and out of airports and taxis? One day, it would be a happy dream to think that he could wake up in the morning in his own bed and not have to get on a plane, that he could sit on his couch with Paige and watch a game, or he could go out and run in his own neighbourhood without having to think about cross-training because his body would have to go on view for millions. All the muscles tightened in his stomach at the mere thought of such luxury. But he couldn't change the world from his couch. The WWE was his home as he knew it, and he could make all the excuses that he wanted, but he couldn't give up the fight. His home in Davenport was on the other side of the world in his head. He could hold onto that dream – for the future. But for now, he watched street lights flash by, thousands of people heading into the City of Sin itself to party and spend the night away.

Last time he'd been in Las Vegas with Dean and Roman, he'd ended up married to a fence. He was pretty sure it was still legally binding, and he'd probably have to get it annulled if he ever wanted to marry Paige. Of course he wanted to marry her, the black clad bitch had him in a vice and life without her wasn't worth thinking about. The love he felt for her was what gave him strength, because he knew if he stopped working right, she'd kick him into gear once more. He missed her; no hand to hold in the back of that taxi.

But no time was ever right for them. He'd never had the chance to tell her about his wife, the picket fence, or even buy her a ring. One day, one day.

Summerlin was a pretty, and wealthy, community. Dean didn't rent, he'd bought. He never spent much on anything, but he was determined to have his own place, where he could just hide away without too much going on. The Carlisle apartments were swish, and as they drew up next to the properties, he'd forgotten how much he loved it. There were pools and palm trees, shaded areas and white stone walls, the mountains peeped in the distance and everything about it screamed quiet. Quiet was what Dean liked, after a childhood in the lower East Side of Cincinnati, where all there was was chaos and noise, he wanted to be away from it all.

He paid the driver, and climbed out of the car. It sped off without a second glance. All you could hear, was the wind through those palms, the trickle of water over rock. It was so peaceful he could have lost himself in meditation just standing there. But he had to check on Dean's apartment. Dean himself had given him an extra key years before, in case he ever needed to get away from everything. Getting in wasn't the issue. He was just scared what he would find when he opened the door.

The apartment itself was one of the smaller ones, hidden around a corner, out of the way of everything and everyone, and Seth climbed up the stone steps, hand on rail to heave him along to find himself at the blue door. It didn't have a name, just the number sixty nine, which was so fucking like Dean. Seth felt into the bag which hung at his side for that key, alongside his own. It was cold in his hand as he pushed it into the lock, turned it slowly, and pushed open the door, just a slither. His heart hammered.

'Dean?'

All was dark, all was clean and tidy. He pushed the door open a little further. The light from outside slid on in and illuminated a small sofa and a little water tank on a table, two small fish floating on.

'Dean? You here?'

For intents and appearances, no one was home, and he felt the bottom of his stomach fall away. He was wrong, his hunch had been wrong. But no, how could he tell just from standing in the doorway? There were rooms to explore. He stepped in, slowly, one foot at a time. As soon as he did, something began to scream. Some shrill alarm. Seth's eyes widened and he covered his ears. There – on the wall, buttons, a screen. He moved over, tried to make sense of what was going on, the screen was bright now, and words scrolled across which made his heart sink. _Security On Route_. He had to turn the fucking alarm off. But how? He didn't know the code!

No wait.

Yes, yes he did.

His finger pushed down on the buttons. Three. One. Five. One.

The sound died. The screen blinked off. Seth's heart was going ten to the dozen, a sigh of relief knocked out of his poor lungs. Of everything that had happened to him, he was forgetting the little things, of course Dean had a house alarm. He wasn't stupid. But those pictures – he'd known. He'd known Seth would come to his house. He had to be there. He had to be.

The door swung shut behind him.

Seth turned, too late.

Something smashed into the side of his head. He found himself on his hands and knees on the soft carpet, eyes blinking blind spots. His head rung louder than any alarm ever could, he rolled his head round, tried to look up, found only a pair of legs ahead. His hand reached out, gripped the fabric and tried to heave himself up. There, a face, his glasses were askew and he couldn't quite make out the face when the makeshift club smacked against him once again, and everything fell into darkness.


	18. Through the Looking Glass

**((Hello everyone! I have written a new chapter for you. I'm getting right back into writing this story now and I hope you enjoy the newest edition. I know that in terms of time it's moving incredibly slowly in their world, but don't worry it'll pick up, there is so much more to come and eventually we will reach the stories end! Please let me know what you think!)**

'You know I think this might be the end of the world, I think we might have actually done it now. Do you think he'll kill us? He might kill us. I think he might actually do it, that sledgehammer of his. He could do it you know, and who would miss us? Think about it. The only one who actually liked us was...'

Seth felt something nudge his leg. A foot perhaps, it felt like a foot, with a pointed boot toe.

'And look what we do to him...he called us his friends before. Remember that? I do, because he did it away from everyone. Remember that look he gave us? Like it was the biggest secret in the history of the world? We're terrible people. We're really bad and it's fun but it's...its all kinds of wrong. I mean what would the big man say when we die and we turn up at his gate and go, hi let us in?'

His head felt groggy. One hell of a headache which felt like he was going sideways and going nowhere all at once; he kind of didn't mind it, the pain was a throbbing reminder that he was indeed still alive and he hadn't been viciously murdered and unceremoniously dumped in a gutter somewhere, in the grimmest part of Las Vegas. It could have happened, and that was what reminded him of how stupid he'd become – he should have thought ahead someone might be there, waiting. Stephanie was as smart as he was, because he'd dumbed down. He needed something to pick up that brain of his – maybe spend the rest of his life on a caffeine drip with occasional doses of morphine to numb it all down so he could just be the machine and not the human.

'You think he's going to wake up soon?'

There was only one voice, and he was almost sure he could feel hands on his face, opening one eyelid to check he was actually there. His body wasn't quite responding but his brain was beginning to flare. He knew that voice, it was born and bred West Virginia and filthy to listen to. He sounded as if he'd drunk whiskey and smoked a thousand cigarettes a day. It gave him some cruel hope, because he didn't even need to hear the actual words being spoken to know he wasn't going to die that day. But it did something else, gave him a cruel realization that he had been wrong.

Dean wasn't here.

'Seth? You in there?' Another nudge with the foot nudged his eyes open a slither, a little further, closed, opened, unsure of the light, he raised a hand to his head and tried to rub consciousness through the skin to his mind. 'Well, we didn't kill him.'

Close though, could have happened. His head was against the old leather of the sofa Dean had paid thirty dollars for in a yard sale. It still smelled faintly of its previous owners, something which was probably true of everything in the apartment. Except the bedroom; Dean didn't own a bed. He didn't sleep well in one unless he had someone he trusted with him. So he slept on the floor, one scruffy pillow and blankets to cover him. Or he dozed off on this very sofa, drunk or too exhausted to move. It would have been comfortable if not for the banging headache.

A hand was on his shoulder, gave him a shake.

'What?' he muttered, half chewing his tongue.

'Seth its Jamie, come on man, wake up.'

'Jamie. Jamie?' Seth's eyes opened completely. He was most definitely still in Dean's apartment, he was most definitely not dead. He was safe – he could tell thanks to the look of relief in Jamie Noble's eyes, and the fact that they were the only three there. He wasn't restrained, and they'd even placed a blanket over him to keep him warm. 'Jamie what in hell is going on? Where's Dean?'

'You missed him.' Jamie stood up straight, sent a secure glance around the room. 'Just as you came in through that door, they were getting him ready to be moved. Had us knock you out as they did. You should have heard him Seth. He was _screaming_ for you. Threatened them and us with every death he knew.' He flinched at the memory. Seth could understand why, he'd heard Dean's scream before. It could curdle your blood and suck away your innocence. Next to Jamie, was his silent partner, Joey Mercury. Why he was always quiet was a mystery to everyone, though Jamie himself seemed to understand every twitch of the face and glance. Seth too, had learned to recognize several of the microscopic messages that Joey could send without a word. It had occurred to him long before, that Joey had plenty to say, but Jamie normally spat it out before he had the chance.

'Where? Where are they taking him?' Seth started to sit up from where he slumped, but felt like he'd hit the ceiling and slumped back down again. 'Jamie I need to know, I have to find him.'

To his surprise, the two men sat down, one either side of him. Joey moved his legs so that they were thrown over his own, Jamie moved his head and body so that he lay down in his lap, his head on the cushion of the sofa. Together they shuffled him along so that he was up enough to see them both without having to move his head. They were so gentle with him it broke his heart.

'You were smarter than they thought coming here.' Jamie patted his shoulder with a smug grin. 'I knew you would be. When we sent that picture I knew you'd manage to track it.'

Oh he'd totally tracked it...with a chance conversation with a Polish woman on a plane to Iowa. He kept his lips shut on that though; Jamie felt like he'd helped, and the pride on Joey's face was enough to make him keep that fact a secret forever.

'Why here?'

'Stephanie knew this would be the last place you'd look for someone when they went missing, their own home. Their own property would be the first place anyone would look. So they brought him here on one of their private planes. When you were spotted at the airport it was all panic stations to move him again.'

'But where is he Jamie?' Seth tried to sit up again, but found he was unable. It was oddly comfortable, sprawled across their legs, and they didn't seem to mind the weight. They were strong men, despite their stature; after all, they'd once been in that ring as wrestlers too. He closed his eyes, a hand on his head. The headache was interrupting his thoughts. But the overriding feeling in his gut was the disappointment; he'd been _that_ close to finding Dean. They'd literally carried him over his prone body; they'd been so close they could have touched.

'The one place on earth no one would dare to go or look.'

'Their own house?'

A grim nod from Joey.

'Back in Connecticut.'

Another nod.

Seth wanted to bash his head against the nearest hard surface. But then, something sprang into his head.

'Paige, Roman – they're still in Connecticut. They were going to check out the Authority's properties. They'll be there – they could find him!'

But his sudden glee was halted in its steps by an uneasy glance exchange between Jamie and Joey.

'What?'

'You didn't hear, did you?'

'What? What's happened?' His eyes were wide, his body pulsating. Something had gone wrong.

'Roman's in hospital Seth, he collapsed not long after you left. He has a bleed on his brain.'

He'd known it. He'd known something was wrong. They'd told him to have to check it out. He'd ignored t hem because he wanted to be there for them, he wanted to be strong for Dean. How he'd hit into that ring post...it wasn't something you could brush off, though he'd tried. The way he'd been so calm, then so heated, something had been playing in his head and he'd tried to ignore it all. The signs had been there with how tired he was. He'd been off balance during their fight at the HQ...he should have done something, said something.

Paige hadn't told him.

'He...is he alright? I have to go to him.'

'We don't know for sure, last we heard they were trying to control seizures.' Jamie patted Seth's hand. 'Nothing you could have done Seth.'

It was all spiralling fast down into hell. This nightmare was circling in on him like a shark, picking off his friends one by one. Dean was in the clutches of the Authority; Roman was hospitalized because of what had happened at the Rumble. Paige, Paige was no longer safe. His allegiances were being picked off one by one. They were taking what mattered most from him, and he knew, that was when they were coming for him, and for the title.

Roman had been holding the real one.

He'd hidden it, but where?

God only knew.

That piece of gold didn't matter to Seth anymore. They Authority could have it. All that time of plotting and lying had turned out this result; the battle didn't seem worth holding on to if all that was needed was to hand it on over, to stop them hurting the people he loved.

'Jamie, Joey...I have to get to Connecticut. I have to see Roman, I need to find Dean...you have to help me. I can't do this alone.'

A sudden thought crossed his mind.

'Why are you both still here?'

'The Game wanted us to make sure you didn't follow Dean.' Jamie shrugged, 'I think he knows we're with you, Seth. Give him enough time and I'm sure he'll strike us off the list when we're not useful anymore. But don't worry about us. May have been a while, but we can handle ourselves.'

He had no doubts. The two of them were fast, strong, even if it meant they had to duck and run, they'd be alright. Jamie had been the cruiserweight champion when the title existed, and Joey had held the tag team titles...it was incredible to think that with such a history between them, they were so looked down on by the Game.

'We'll get you to Connecticut. But they'll be waiting for you Seth. You go to that hospital and they'll be there. They already know about Roman. Paige is missing; we think she's hiding out.'

That was his girl. Paige was street-smart and she knew what she was doing. If she was out of her depth, she knew to let the storm blow over until there was a chance she could get back on top again. But then...he knew she liked to take chances. She could have been hiding, she could have been in that hospital, or she could have been still trying to find Dean. But she wasn't stupid, if she was doing anything dangerous, she wouldn't be alone.

He thought back to the XL Centre, to the people who'd helped them. Dolph and the whole of the women's locker had stood up and showed their support of the Shield. There was a strong chance they'd all allied and were working together. Paige was a natural leader when given the chance to shine...but he had to be sure. He had to find all of them.

'We'll get you to Connecticut.' Jamie decided. He set a glance to Joey who was already on his phone, elbows on Seth's shins. 'As soon as you're back at that airport, we'll have to leave you Seth. Get on the plane and stay out of trouble this time.'

'...You were the one who left me those pictures.'

'Had to give you some sort of clue you were on the right track.' Jamie gave him a short smile and nodded toward Joey. 'Actually it was this one. I was already here'

'How is Dean?'

'Alive. I think they recognized there wasn't much point hurting him unless they had to. His leg is still bad from the operation; they broke some fingers, a rib or two. I think he's missing some teeth, but he gave them hell Seth. He bit off half of one guy's nose.'

He would have laughed at that normally. But his brain moved back in time, and saw that memory; the one of Dean in the hospital bed, colouring in a children's activity book, tongue between his teeth to keep it all inside the lines. They called Dean insane. He was fractured and could move between a monster and a child in seconds. The Dean they'd taken could be very different to the one he found if they didn't locate him fast enough.

Monday, on Raw in Denver Colorado, he knew that Dean would be paraded in front of everyone like he was the title himself. They'd show off what they'd done to him, bait him. He knew they'd try and get inside of his head and turn him against his brothers by saying he'd been abandoned. He knew. He knew it all because they thought so little of Dean they thought he could be turned. Even in all the time they'd fought against each other, when the aggression had been a little too real, if he'd said the word, Dean would have turned to the world and declared he'd follow Seth Rollins into the devil's dungeon itself...and look where he'd ended up for his loyalty.

Dean would be brought to him. Roman needed him. Paige could have been anywhere. They'd been conquered and divided – the Shield's old strategy against their opponents. Stephanie McMahon...she'd developed too much, she'd learned too much from him. Oh she'd been smart to begin with, but he'd taught her strategy with his suggestions and tweaks to the Authority's plans. He had to make his choice; where to go, who to find, who to be with...or to stay hidden and protect himself for the time being.

He had to throw away his old armour and build new bones and skin from titanium if he wanted to get through this. He had to block his ears to every word he heard, blind his eyes to the pain of others, and crush his own into the earth.

Seth Rollins needed to get up. He needed to be something more than just the man, he had to be a warrior, he had to be the solider he'd been bred to be, this was a war and he needed to win it, not for him but for the people he loved and cherished. He was gathering cannon fodder with every friend and ally he made, but he didn't want a single one to fall, to die. They could be bulletproof. They had to be. He had to be.

'Get me back there boys. I have work to do.'

* * *

He watched him sleep, hooked up with wires, arms strapped down so he couldn't fall from the bed, so he couldn't hurt himself if another seizure took hold. He'd never looked so pale, so sick, so weak before. It was clear to see he'd carried more than a bleed on the brain for a long time. So many injuries, so many burdens his body just couldn't take it anymore.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

Visiting hours were over, the doors closed up for the night. But he'd found his way in, guided by the sweet hand of Lucia. She'd hidden him away; she'd pulled him through backdoors and windows to get him to where he needed to be. He stood alone, a man in black next to that bed. The darkness outside crawled in his heart and in his head. Rain poured, thunder growled and lightning lit his own brain. The love he felt for these people had destroyed, they were what mattered and what moved him. He had begun this journey for a strap to put around his waist, for some empty prestige and hallucinations of becoming the main event. Now, now he needed to topple a tyrant to make things right, to protect the future.

'They'll pay brother. I'll rebuild us. They can't stop us. I won't let them win.' He moved closer, a hand on Roman's. He squeezed it tight. Nurses moved past the room, peered on in, but found no one. Seth was already gone.


	19. Immortal Bonds

**((So sorry about how long you've all had to wait for this guys! Really not been very well at all, so I hope that you understand and enjoy this newest entry to Seth's story! Please let me know what you think!))**

Addicted to the taste, he'd spent his days in hiding as he plotted. He could have worn a mask, attacked from the outside in. But the drug of revenge had taken a strong hold of him and he was a liar to himself if he thought he could be anything other than vengeance himself. He'd been beaten and tortured in front of a live studio audience, and he knew the same would happen to Dean unless he did something spectacular, unless he became more than just Seth Rollins. He could be anything he wanted to be, anyone he chose. He'd learned that through all his time as a rat in the sewers of the WWE.

He hadn't found Dean, didn't know if Paige had been able to sneak her way into that particular stronghold. He didn't know where she was, it seemed she was just as good at blending into the shadows as he was. He could live and learn so much from her. For every mistake he made she you seemed to patch it back together with spit and duct tape. And now, here he was, hidden among it all. Monday had found him far too fast and every waking moment had been dedicated to getting himself to this point. He'd not slept once. The feeling inside of him was concrete loneliness, and he wished he could surround himself with the people he loved. But right now he couldn't and he had to accept that in order to be happy once more, he had to right his wrongs, and he had to fight back against the Game. All of this had been done to hurt Seth, to punish him for humiliating the Game for so long.

Colorado seemed a universe away from the snow peppered streets of Connecticut, and from the bone warming heat of Las Vegas. He couldn't quite believe he was there. Getting into the Pepsi Centre had been like infiltrating the Octagon. The bright lights of Denver had done little but blind him to everything other than the task at hand. He loved the city and had visited many times before, had good memories on street corners and in clubs with his brothers. But now he had to concentrate and be more than just a sweet time. Things were in full swing, with people filtering and finding their seats.

No one had any idea he was there. Why would they? After all...he was invisible. The people who were never seen were the people who faced the public, who sold them what they desired, because people couldn't see past the food they were served, the merchandise they bought and the programs they stuck their nose in. Seth himself catered behind a hot dog stand, hair tucked up under his hat which he'd pulled down low, his thick rimmed glasses on. People didn't question the name tag of 'Colby' which he'd swiped from the lad he'd replaced, nor did they give him a second glance after he'd handed their carb-fest over to them. Good honest work on a night of bad choices and stupid pranks. It seemed his life had come hand in hand with Dean's now. He'd replaced his crazy friend.

Maybe he'd become a psychotic in his place, but the calm injected into him by Roman over all the years kept him calm, calm through the heart beat that knocked a knot in his dry throat. Nerves couldn't balance out the rage which fought inside. Who would have thought it? A maniac surviving hot dogs...

But as soon as most people had gone through to their seats with their snacks and Seth heard the fireworks go off, welcoming them all to Raw, he discreetly closed the booth and pulled off the apron. He kept the hat, and changed into his own clothes, all black so that he could blend in with the behind the scenes staff and security that he knew would be looking out for him. The red hat was one Paige had bought him, and he touched the peak with thumb and forefinger as she flashed across his thoughts for the millionth time that day. He just wanted to see her, to know she was safe, to know that she was ok.

It didn't take him long to find his way backstage, with a flash of a pass forged for him by Jamie and Joey. It hadn't been too difficult for Seth to find the plans for the building in the City Hall (once again, with the aid of his friends who seemed to have connections in every city) he knew exactly where he was going. There were several storage areas in the Pepsi Centre, any number of them could have held Dean, but he knew that the chances of finding him were slim. The possibility that he would already be with the Game and soon in front of everyone else were high.

Seth kept his head low and tried to calm his heart as he walked among the backstage employees, past the seamstresses, past security. He needed to get to the Gorilla position. From there he could get onstage. He needed to be seen by everyone, with or without the title didn't matter. He needed the people so on his side that anything the Game did was white hot heat. He needed the people to see he was willing to sacrifice himself, to do anything, to have his friend returned to him. And he was willing. His body could heal, it didn't matter what they did to it. If he could never wrestle again?

Some sacrifices had to be made for the benefit of those he loved.

The Gorilla was just up ahead, he only needed a few more steps. But there, security, bundles of them in their black uniforms with their comms hooked up to their ears. A platform of monitors had been set up so they could see everywhere in the centre. And there – that one big screen so the stars could watch what was going on inside. Music and green lights. He could see them, just there, in their fancy suits – Hunter and his bitch of a wife. His hand was round her waist and she kissed his cheek as they strode out to their entrance music.

Seth faltered. There was no way he was getting past that many security. And where was Dean? He was nowhere in sight. He'd been so sure the first thing they would have done was paraded him in front of everyone. But then the camera moved, zoomed in as the two smug fuckers waltzed onto stage and he couldn't look anymore. He made to step forward, but something grabbed him from the right. He made to shout but a hand cemented itself over his mouth. Shocked, hat knocked askew, he'd been caught, rumbled, he thought he'd done so well – he tried to pull himself free when he found himself face to face with darkness.

'Let me go!'

'Why should I?'

That voice.

'Paige?'

Soft lips pressed against his, he felt his back against the wall. His hands moved over her shoulders, her neck, pulled her close as his relief spilled into her mouth and he felt the lick of her happiness. She was in her ring gear...just what had she been planning? He could have stayed there in the dark with her forever, just drunk her in, sexed her senseless, but they didn't have time. The kiss broke as a chorus of boos echoed throughout the entire building.

'We don't have long.' She whispered, she made to turn away but Seth caught her by the chin.

'Paige where have you been? I've looked everywhere for you.'

'Oh, here and there, keeping an eye on things...did you hear -,'

'Roman? I went to see him. We have to make this right Paige. We have to fix it before we're all broken.'

She snorted. 'Hon, I'm the only one in working order out of the four of us.'

She was right, but it didn't mean he liked the truth. The idea that he probably wasn't in the best health or the right frame of mind to do this was out of the question. He had to. He had to. For all of their sakes.

'Dean? Have you see him?'

She nodded slowly. 'About an hour or so ago, they brought him in the back all hush hush. Taped up his mouth so they didn't have to hear him swear.' She grinned at that and rapidly started to plait her hair over one shoulder as she spoke. 'I have everyone's eyes looking out for him but it's like he's just disappeared into the blue.'

'That's not a good thing.'

'We'll find him Seth. He'll be fine. Remember, this is the man who used to throw himself into barbed wire on a regular basis. Anything they will have done will be nothing compared to what he's been through before.'

Screams of thousands.

'That sounds like our cue.' Seth made to burst through the door once again, but Paige grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She shook her head, and pressed a finger to her lips, and jolted her head further into the darkness. It seemed like endless pitch, but no, Paige herself sat down at a chair he'd not seen and opened up a laptop he'd not noticed. A live feed played through onto the screen which had been made smaller so that she could bring up others. There, on stage, was Dean. Surrounded by security, he was standing, but barely, and it seemed they were holding him up. He looked exhausted, face a sickly white, eyes sunk, but his mouth was going. They probably wished they'd left the tape on. Seth couldn't make out what he was saying though. He squinted to look at the screen. It looked as if his hands were cuffed – why bother? He was in no shape to fight back? So what was the point? Just to make a spectacle?

The anger burned inside. They dragged him forward to the cries of the audience, toward that shit-eating grin of Hunter. Dean didn't have the energy to kick as they hauled him up and threw him through the ring ropes to land in a crumpled heap in front of the Game.

'_Now look what we have here. You comfortable down there Ambrose? Huh? Is that better than your hospital bed? It doesn't look it. How's the knee?' _Hunter stepped forward, pressed his foot on top of the surgically repaired knee and shunted all his weight down on top of it. Dean tried to suppress his scream, but couldn't stop the strangled yelp which squeezed through his lips. '_Look everyone! It's Dean Ambrose! The Lunatic Fringe! Look how he's fallen from his crazy cloud and landed back at my feet. Where he belongs. And what about your friends Ambrose? What about the rest of the Shield? Roman Reigns..._' he shook his head and looked toward Stephanie who smiled warmly at him, '_in hospital with a bleeding brain because of where he ran into that ring post. And what of Seth Rollins?_' The crowd cheered and the Game glared around at them all as Stephanie bent down and grabbed Dean's hair in her manicured nails, she made him look at her. Seth couldn't hear what she said but Dean seemed to find it funny, as his pale face cracked a smirk. Even in the worst pain he could ever experience, Dean could find the hilarity in the shit. It was a gift.

'Paige I gotta get out there.'

'Not yet, not yet.' She muttered, he'd not been paying attention to what she was up to, but it certainly didn't make sense to him when he looked. Black pillars, vertical like those you would use to vary volume on something, were there and she was staring at them intently. She pressed something absently into his hand – a Bluetooth comm.. His own, with that curly _S_ she'd drawn onto it in Sharpie when she'd bought it for him. He hooked it up quickly.

'What are you doing?'

'Getting you a way in and out. But you've got to be quick. You've got to be fast.'

Seth's eyes widened, glued to the screen.

'Seth you have to go now.' She hissed. He faltered. 'Seth now!'

He rushed out of the door, hat gone, hair free; he was spotted in an instant by security. But as they charged toward him, the lights went out. Seth stared around him in shock.

'_Seth go! Go!_' Paige's voice in his ear. He didn't wait twice. It was difficult in the dark, but he knew he had to get down to that ring. He had to get to Dean. He dodged around the flailing hands of security, he knocked away grabbing fingers and jumped over legs. '_I've managed to block the backup generators, but it won't be for long Seth! You have to hurry!_' he felt the curtain between the Gorilla and the stage between his fingers, and pushed through. He could barely see where the aisle was down to the ring, but the audience had all lit up their phones in the chaos. A crazy glow lit his way and he understood why Wyatt called them his fireflies. He ran, light on his feet and he snuck through the barrier of security around the ring, and slipped on in. He found Dean, laid his hands on his body, felt his wet hair and sweating forehead.

Dean knew who it was.

Words didn't need to be exchanged. Seth hooked his arm under his brother's and heaved him up to his feet. But as he did, the lights burst back to life. Dazed by the sudden brightness, he leaned against the ropes. The crowds joyous screams poured in through his ears like honey. The pure hatred on the face of the Game was ambrosia. The man turned red with rage at the sight of the two brothers there, and he looked as if he might break the microphone in his hand in half.

'_Seth you have to get him out of there!_' Paige cried into his ear. '_I can't get the lights off...they've blocked me out!'_

They were on their own. No smoke and mirrors to protect them. But...maybe there was someone who could. Seth didn't hang around. The security were still confounded, confused, and he pulled himself and Dean through the ring ropes to the floor. He heaved Dean up and over the barrier. He knew his friend couldn't walk without help, but they had to go, they had to be fast.

'_Get them! You idiots! Get them!_'

'Seth -,' Dean started but he didn't get a chance to finish. Dean wasn't light, and Seth wasn't as strong as Roman. With busted ribs, he turned to face his brother, and without a second word grabbed him and hauled him up and over his shoulder. He couldn't run, but the crowd parted to let them through, came back together again to block the way of security as Seth heaved himself and Dean toward the exit. There would be more security waiting for them, he knew that. But it didn't matter. They could get through it. His ribs were screaming, his shoulder felt like it were about to give, but he didn't give up. He didn't let go. His lungs laboured and he saw the exit to the right of the stage.

The Game's tantrum followed him as he got them through into the back of the venue. There, waiting was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. The entire women's locker room. At its head was Nikki Bella, she gave him a smile and a nod and without a second word she pointed ahead, toward the car park. Seth understood, and as he continued forward, the women formed a protective bubble around them both, and as security descended, the women attacked. He'd never seen such fury, such power. There was no doubt that they were amazons, they were powerful, they were incredible. They fought because they'd had enough and knew that something needed to change.

'Girls...got game...' Dean muttered quietly.

'They do Dean, they really do.' There was an open way for them now, a whole corridor away was their chance of freedom. Seth felt a bolt of energy rush through him. He could make it. He could! He started to run, felt the full weight of Dean who tried to stop himself going limp for his brother's sake. He felt himself slowing, heard the commotion behind him but couldn't look back. He had to get Dean to safety. He had to. 'I've got you brother. I'm never letting you go. Never!'

There, only a few more metres.

Something moved, blocked the exit. The great bulk was bear like, and the cruel memory of his buckled back came back to Seth in the Big Show's smirk.

'Ends here Rollins. The Game's not too happy with you for stealing his new favourite toy.' That voice just made him want to punch himself in his own face. The Big Show always sounded smug, even when he was playing the good guy he somehow always managed to rub people up the wrong way. 'Hand him over and I won't break your back. Remember last time? I came so close.'

Seth sweated, his breathing heavy, light headed, exhausted, he needed rest, but Dean needed help. They needed to get those cuffs off him, he needed food, good care, he needed everything that he'd been denied. He couldn't let the Big Show take him away from him. He couldn't. He'd only just got his brother back once again. He'd been foolish before. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. He edged a step back, legs apart to try and balance Dean's weight better. His eyes darted left, right, tried to find some other way out, some way to avoid the juggernaut.

Out of nowhere, something shot toward the Big Show, dragged him sideways. Lightning kicks to the chest, to the back. For a second the bullet turned to face Seth. Dolph. He turned his attention back to the Big Show, didn't let him up, stamped on his hands, slammed his face into the concrete floor with a _famouser_. Seth didn't know what to think, what to say.

'Go Rollins!' Ziggler shouted as the Big Show attempted to stand once more. As he did, there was a stream of people and he suddenly wasn't alone. Bodies, over a dozen of them, feline, graceful and with more knuckle that a gipsy boxer were on the giant. When this was over, he was taking every single one of those incredible women somewhere hot and expensive. He'd give them flowers, booze, anything they wanted, just to say thank you. Seth hurried past the carnage, down the steps. There waiting was a taxi cab, in the passenger seat, waving at them to hurry – Paige.

There was a time and a place to stop and die, and this certainly wasn't it. He heaved the back door open and gently lowered Dean inside. He looked as if he were about to throw up. Seth quickly got in next to him, and the cab jerked away, just as the cameras and Triple H and Stephanie McMahon appeared in the exit. It only took seconds for Seth to saw through the plastic cuffs that locked Dean's wrists. And Dean, with those incredible energy reserves he always seemed to have, wound down the window, hung his head out of it, raised both arms and both middle fingers, and _laughed_ at them.

Seth saw the rage inside the Game. But this was war now. Rage was a choke mechanism. Let the Game be mad, as soon as he fell into psychosis, that was when he would make mistakes, that was when he would be so consumed that all plans would fall out of his hands and the fever would take over. The chances that they had to win the fight would depend on all their choices and he knew that he wouldn't have to make them alone anymore. Dean turned toward him, that relief on his face, he raised his hand and Seth took it, pulled him into an embrace so tight it felt like he was trying to pull Dean straight into his own heart. If only he could do it with each and everyone one of them, they might all finally be safe.

'I knew you'd come for me. They said you wouldn't that you'd be too scared. That I meant less than the title did. I knew they were lying. You'd never leave me. Would you?'

Seth shook his head. 'Dean. I'll always come for you. All of you. We need to get you better, because I need you by my side in this. You with me brother?'

Dean nodded with a renewed vigour, it brought some kind of glow under his sickly visage. 'Til the end kid.'


	20. Pause For Thought

**((Hi guys! So, so sorry about the massive gap between updates. I have no real excuse for this, I just haven't done it. I'm going to try and endeavour to update at least once a week, more if I can! I hope that you all like this newest chapter into this story! As always, please let me know what you think, your support means the world to me!))**

There was something warming about the way Dean looked at Roman. Something in the way that he cleaned the hair away from the big man's forehead and the way that he spoke to him as if he were wide awake and listening. Seth himself was sat far back, away in the corner of the room, next to the curtains and the blank wall. Roman had been moved. Moved rooms, moved hospitals and with him had come that beautiful woman, Lucia. She'd insisted she transferred with him, to watch over him and to finish what she felt she had begun. Seth had tried to talk her out of it – that black eye was a harsh reminder of just what danger she could be in – but she was adamant and she was brave, and as she put it, '_someone have to watch him whilst you out playing hero_'.

She had a point.

Paige was sat in another chair, this one on the opposite side of the room, legs crossed, feet tucked under, a laptop snug in her lap. She was monitoring something, but didn't say what, her eyes focused on the screen. On her ear was that comm which seemed to have almost been tattooed into place. On the other end, constantly streaming to her, were Joey and Jamie. They'd wired themselves up so that the Shield could be one step ahead and hear what was going on at all times. Like Lucia, they knew the danger, but either didn't seem to care or thought that the cause was worthy getting hurt for.

'You should have seen him Roman. All the things he said to me. So fucking confident...he thought that he had me in the palm of his hand. That ol' Dean Ambrose would do or say whatever he wanted just because he had the goodie goodie pills to make it all go away. The pain – he didn't know what he was saying. Sweet pain right? Right? That's what you always said right Rome? Pain is sweet because it means you're still kickin'. Oh I kicked Rome. Kicked real fuckin' hard.'

Dean was perched on the edge of the bed. His leg was stretched out on the mattress, right next to Roman Reign's still body. He seemed to want to mould right into the man, like if he could close the gap between them he could bring his brother back to consciousness. Roman was alive. The medical staff had caught him before he could die...because that was what nearly happened. Lucia said it herself...Roman Reigns was on the brink, but they somehow managed to control the bleed on his brain. They somehow caught him before he could fall away forever.

They'd been minutes from losing their big brother, and none of them would have been there to say goodbye, to hold on to his hand and try to bring him back. They had Dean...they'd forgotten to watch over Roman. It seemed stupid now, but ever since things had become one big brawl, it seemed their focus had been on one thing or another, not the big picture. First Seth, then the title, then Dean, and now Roman...and with the realization of it, Seth sat, fingers rubbed his chin through the thicket of his beard. He'd approached everything so far with strategy and little information. Now it was time to slow things down.

They needed time to heal, to collect. They needed time to be together, to bond once more and to reconnect. They weren't leaving Roman's side; they'd made it clear to the hospital staff. It was a private place; a lot of money was trafficked through from their accounts and those of their friends. Per night was too much, but even if they had nothing at the end, it would be worth it to keep Roman safe.

Lucia would poke her head round the door every hour or so just to see if they were alright, if they needed anything. On occasion she would do Roman's checks and jot down notes. She'd had herself assigned his private nurse. No one else would go into his room; no one else would see him. If a doctor had to look over him, she would be there. If Seth hadn't already found the love of his life in Wednesday Addams over on that chair, he was pretty sure he would have proposed to the older woman. She was perfect in every single way.

'You would have been so proud of me Rome. You would, you really would, cos even when they zipped me up I ripped their ears off, I bit their noses until they nuzzled this bad dog.' Dean stroked Roman's head as he spoke, like he was telling a child a bed time story. 'Blood everywhere Rome...wasn't sure whose...but got out. Got out because of Seth,' For the first time in what seemed to be hours, Dean looked up and over to where Seth sat in that little purple chair. He gave him a faithful nod. 'Used his brains to carry us to freedom! Loaded me up and away, _Hi Ho Silver_, away!' he put his fingers to his face like a mask and pretended to whinny.

Seth chuckled and shook his head. Dean was smiling, sadly, but still, smiling. Roman looked peaceful, like he was asleep. It was a pretty way of looking at a coma. Lucia said Rome would wake up, it might be days, it might even be a week, but he would. It would just take time for his body to cope, to catch up. He might be perfect, he might be damaged, they couldn't possibly know, until the big man opened his eyes.

They watched him through morning, day, evening and night. They waited for anything, any sign; a twitch of a finger, a flicker of an eyelid. Hiding out in a hospital room could have been considered cowardice but he didn't give a shit. In a bag, under his chair, was the title. Paige had grabbed it before she'd managed to get into that taxi. The WWE could cope without it for now. The world would have to live without Seth Rollins and the rest of the Shield. Triple H and his wife could stew for a while, they could grow complacent, thinking that they'd won some victory. That the Shield was gone forever...but they'd always be thinking about them, always be wondering, they'd think about that gold which was gone from their grasp. They'd have to live with the crowd chanting for their heroes. Time would go by...the Shield would heal, and when the time was right, they would return.

For now however, the Shield would sit in the dark and warm room, drinking tasteless coffee, surviving off of vending machine snacks and sandwiches. On occasion, Paige would go out and return with pizza or fruit, drinks, anything. For the most part, they would sit in silence. Dean was the only one who constantly talked – to Roman, to Seth, to Paige, to the walls. He'd talk to the drip in Roman's arm. He'd talk to his own knee and the scar which was beginning to bloom under the staples and stitches.

A week and a half had passed since Seth had snatched Dean out of that ring, had broken those cuffs and they'd driven off to their freedom. He was pretty sure that Dean himself repeated the same stories every single day, but that he only heard different parts each time. Paige was tucked up against the cushion of her chair, her head back, beanie pulled down over her eyes. The laptop was up and open, the electric light shone yellow on her pale, sleeping face. Seth felt weathered, his body ached felt sore and cracked as he stood up. He knocked his head from side to side, his neck cranking loudly. He stuck out his arms and twisted his shoulders and spine. His ribs were sore, but he was starting to stick himself back together. The hospital had a gym...maybe he'd use it...but what if he missed Rome waking up?

What if today was the day the big man came round?

He bent his body and touched the cream coloured luminal, straightened and ran his fingers through his hair. Roman's room had an en-suite, and they took turns washing. Dean had to be physically carried into the shower, Seth had to help him clean, but he didn't mind. Dean was getting stronger, and with the help of Lucia, he was taken to see doctors and did physio daily. He'd argued the first time, but Lucia had insisted, otherwise she threatened to take away the colouring book she'd given him when they'd arrived. It was a powerful threat.

Dean himself rubbed his knee and winced. 'Still sore Rome...who'd have thought being fixed could hurt so bad huh? Guess I'm a fuckin' coackroach eh? Gonna survive it all! This hurts though – the apocalypse is gonna be fuckin' hell...'

Seth must have missed it.

'Seth!'

He blinked and near jumped at the sheer excitement in Dean's shrill.

'Seth, Seth look brother, look!'

He was by the bed in a split second, and he saw, oh he saw. He felt a well in his heart and his stomach flopped down to his feet at the twitch in Roman's mouth, like he was trying to smile. He didn't dare say a word. Didn't know if he could summon the syllables if he wanted to. Dean was near hanging over their brother, a hand either side of Roman's head, he picked him up with such tenderness, lifted that face an inch from the pillow.

'You wakin' up Rome? You comin' home? Come home Rome, come on bro...come on...'

The twitch ran through Roman's temples, his nose and forehead, to his eyes. Another twitch, another; each one sent a tremor through Seth's entire body, and the moment those eyes opened Seth felt dizzy, a light-headedness which he could only compare to orgasmic joy. He clutched hold, tight of the rail on the bed and laughed. He couldn't stop, Dean too. They pressed their foreheads to Roman's, kissed his skin so gently for fear of damaging his stupid head further.

'Hey there brother,'

Rome looked at them in silent confusion, eyes glazed and hazy. He seemed to recognize their voices, but couldn't quite see them; his mouth moved, tongue dry and swollen so no words came out. Dean placed him back into his pillow carefully and moved back a little to give him some air, to give him some space. His eyes were wet, he smelled of salt. But there he was – awake.

'We missed you bro,' Dean muttered and looked at him intently. 'You missed us?'

Roman opened and closed his mouth, tried to swallow his desert throat wet. Minutes passed until finally, a rasping whistle escaped the man's jaws. It was too quiet to hear, but it was a start.

'Sounds like you been smokin' too much Rome. You gotta cut that shit down, ain't good for your health.' Dean smirked and showed his own teeth in a monstrous grin.

He liked that, a hazardous wheeze of a laugh and the crack of a grin on his mouth. His eyes were beginning to come into focus now and he tried to sit up, and with Seth's help, he managed it. He peered around and tested his fingers. He couldn't quite lift his arms yet, but his hands clenched weakly, he wiggled his toes. Things were moving how they should. The early signs were Roman Reigns was alright...Superman had pulled through.

'You...boys...been...keepin' outta...trouble?'

Roman's first words were an instant classic. He was doing what he always did – the daddy of the group, making sure his boys were alright. It made Seth want to punch him, embrace him and kiss the stupid bastard all at once. They let Paige sleep. She'd have one hell of a surprise when she opened those incredible eyes, when her ears heard again and her senses started to spark. The three Shield members stood, sat and led on that bed, and in their smiles they knew without words that things would be alright.

The Shield would soon be back together, and the cracks which they'd forgotten to seal would heal. They called on Lucia who greeted Roman with a kiss and a precious embrace before she took his vitals and informed his doctor. The doctor himself checked over him and agreed to allow him food and drink.

'So...what's...the plan, eh?' Rome asked as he attempted to negotiate a spoon and a pot of orange jelly. The more time which went by, the better his motor skills were becoming, and the stronger his voice.

'No plan. Nada. Nothing.' Seth shook his head and lifted the paper cup of coffee to his lips. He swallowed it down and tasted something for the first time in weeks. 'We're not going back until we're all on our feet. That means you're well, it means Dean's at least on crutches, and I can defend the two of you. Paige is keeping track of things...I figure the longer we're away, the more on edge the Authority are going to be. They'll play the world, make them think they have everything under control, but the more they have to wait for us, the more paranoid they'll get. We have time to get better, they start having the night sweats.'

Roman cocked his head to one side. There was an all mighty crack which Dean cheered through a mouthful of a meatball sub. Seth pushed his glasses up his nose and helped Roman rearrange his fingers around the spoon.

'This is what you've done in five hours...imagine what you're going to be like in five days bro.'

'Five days...I'll be...chasing you idiots...outta this place.'

'Bet you will.'

Roman nodded. He was clearly exhausted, but content and alive. 'Sounds...awesome,' Another mouthful of jelly and the pot was done. Lucia had brought him an entire menu's worth of food which of course, was more than he could manage, and really for the whole group. They ate like kings, Paige snored quietly, and it was like they were kids at a sleepover or out on camp. The cruel outside world couldn't reach them then and there. In their own protective bubble, they were free men. It was a relief and a release. The WWE was a dark cloud on the horizon, but for now, they had their sunshine. Nothing could rain on their parade – even the storm which harrowed down beyond the walls of the hospital. Together, they feasted and laughed and celebrated just being alive.


	21. Stop Breathing

**((HEY THERE! So here is the newest entry for Seth's story. It's quite a bit longer than the last one. I do feel a little bit bad for what happened in this update, but then...ANYWAY! I hope that you all like this chapter, and as always please let me know what you think!))**

It was the longest he'd been away from the WWE, and he was oddly loving it. He'd not had free time, proper free time, in years. Any spare second normally found him moulding his body with Crossfit or trying to actually love his girl. Paige, of all of them, was the only one who went to Raw and Smackdown; couldn't quite stay away, liked to be in the middle of it all. But she wasn't stupid, kept herself surrounded by the rest of the women's locker room, kept people with her, even when she wasn't on screen. Seth watched her on that screen with weary eyes. They'd been gone two weeks now.

The fireworks exploded on screen, welcoming people to the show. He could remember the excitement he'd felt during their original run as the Shield – the flash and the bang signalled that they were going out to show the world just how awesome they were. He could imagine that they held the same thrill for Paige. He knew her – she always appeared unsurprised and in control, but even she still felt butterflies when the light show began.

'_Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Raw!_'

'That Cole?'

Roman had been snoozing, but apparently the noise had brought him back to the land of the living. Seth had managed to patch into Raw through Paige's laptop, and sat with it on his lap, staring at the screen. He looked over to the hospital bed and gave a short nod.

'Wanna watch?'

He quickly put the laptop down on his seat and moved to help Roman sit up. His return to strength was incredible, but every now and again, he seemed to forget how to operate parts of his body. Two days before he been practicing walking when he'd had to stop five steps in because he couldn't remember how to breathe and move at the same time. It was work in progress. The Doctor – a Mr B. D Goddard – had told them that it may be something that Roman would have to deal with for the rest of his life. Roman had dismissed it, but they all knew it was a very real possibility. And if that was all they had to worry about after his close call, Seth was thankful. They'd always be there to help him.

'It's Fastlane on Sunday,' Roman said, and moved his legs a little so that the laptop could be placed on his lap. 'We should be there Seth, making them stew.'

'Paige will be,' Seth moved his chair so that it was next to the bed and they could both see. 'She's somehow managed to con herself a title match against Nikki Bella.' He sat down, elbow on the bed, his head leaned on his hand. 'I hope she wins, obviously, but I think she's too distracted right now...and we want Nikki in our good books to help keep her safe.'

'You think she'd lose on purpose, just to keep the peace?'

'You have met Paige right?'

'True. So if she wins, you're worried the women's locker won't be as friendly?'

'Natalya runs the women's camp...I think she'd stay on Paige's side of things if she does win, and would try and force Nikki to play nicely. We'll have to see.'

'Where are they?'

'Orlando,' Seth muttered. No doubt the show would begin with the Authority coming out and gloating. It seemed to be what normally happened. He'd not realized until watching it as an audience member just how much of a formula the show now had. They began with someone coming out, there was a match, there was a promo, there was a multi-man tag match, there was a promo, there was a match...there was no unpredictability, there was no bizarre fun to it all like there had been when he watched as a kid. Whilst he had nostalgic views of the Attitude era, in many ways he was thankful that he didn't wrestle in it – why? Because now was safer, and he felt there was a chance to actually put on a great wrestling match. People bayed for blood once, and now they cheered for great matches. He'd had his share of tables and ladders and chairs, he'd played with barbed wire and death matches. But those were the old days. These were the new.

Though oddly...it seemed that Shield were bringing blood and controversy back to the WWE.

Of course, out came the Authority. They looked typically smug and Seth had to restrain walloping the laptop.

'_This is an excellent day,_' the Game said. He an arm around the waist of Stephanie who somehow always had the general ability to look like someone had smeared shit under her nose. '_Today, the Authority, the people who work night and day to give you, the WWE universe what you want, has had a small victory. We've finally had something go our way. Now I know you've all heard the news,'_

'What news?'

Seth shrugged.

'_That's right, the main event for Fastlane will now feature – the Game! Triple H! The King of Kings!'_ Stephanie near shouted into her microphone, pointed at her husband the whole time, just in case people didn't actually know who he was. Seth felt his insides crunch. '_Daniel Bryan has qualified for a match against my husband. A match to see who will go on to main event Wrestlemania! Well done Bryan, well done. But the fact is, you've faced him before, you know what can and will be done to you. But we'd like to congratulate you personally. So why don't you come on out Bryan? Come on out and stand with us, talk to us, show your beloved Yes Movement what you've got to show them?_'

They actually stood and applauded.

'Something is wrong,' Roman muttered, 'they hate Bryan, especially after Wrestlemania last year...what's going on Seth? What are they doing?'

Seth didn't have an answer, but he felt something inside the back of his head, cogs turning. Wrestlemania...it was only a month away, there he would have to return. He'd have to face whoever won this match for the title...but why on earth would the Authority give someone else the opportunity to snatch that away from the Game? It didn't make sense.

That was, until the limp body of Daniel Bryan was dragged onto the stage. Kane hulked over him, one thick hand wrapped around the red and black boot of the people's favourite. Bryan didn't look like he was moving, eyes shut, one lid looked like it had been torn, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of the eye down the side of his face.

'_Oh dear...what could have happened?_' Stephanie asked in mock surprise.

In his gut, Seth felt something set alight. There was little love lost between them and Bryan, but this was a sick message. He knew who to.

'_What a shame. It looks like Mr Bryan won't be able to compete tonight. Poor, poor Bryan._'

He'd always said he wouldn't hit a woman. Paige had told him that some women deserved to be hit for being lil' bitches. He'd never completely agreed with her until that exact moment. The sneer of Stephanie, the way she bent over the body of Bryan like it was something she was so very proud of, the way she stroked his face as Kane pulled his head up by his hair...every particle of her being made Seth angry. Roman just looked at the screen vacantly.

'You know what's going to happen, don't you?'

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, there she was. No entrance music, nothing. Brie was at her husband's side, tried to push Kane away, tried to shield the man she loved with her entire body. She held his face, tears rolled down hers. She looked up, blinded by the lights and by Stephanie and the Game. She didn't wait, and launched herself at the suited woman. The crowd went ballistic. Within seconds Nikki appeared too, just in time to prevent Kane from yanking her sister away from Stephanie. She put her arms around her twin in a protective cage, stood between the Authority, her sister and brother-in-law.

'_Defiant bitch_,' Stephanie hissed, her hair in tangles and a vicious hand mark imprinted on her face. '_And you Nikki! I expected more than you getting involved. You think you can just do what you want? You have no idea! Tonight, you Nikki will defend your title – against me!_'

Silence.

'Seth?'

'We have a problem Roman.'

* * *

They saw it coming from a mile away, but the _one, two, three_ made them wince. Nikki was an absolute mess, clutching broken fingers where Stephanie had stomped on her hand, but forced the referee to turn a blind eye by threatening his job. It made him sick to his stomach, to see her standing there, the centre of that ring, the pink and silver Diva's title slung over her shoulder. This was all part of a plan. It couldn't be ignored, couldn't be denied. At Fastlane, Paige would be facing Stephanie McMahon for the title. They'd systematically dismantled the WWE in one fell swoop, just to get a kick at the Shield.

Paige wasn't about to let them have a swift victory though. They must have expected her to come out, but not what she actually did.

Stephanie had that blasted microphone in her hand. Why couldn't someone on sound just do the world a favour and mute it? No one wanted to hear that witch's voice.

'_Paige!_' the people cheered the name, they knew who to love, who represented them, who hated the Authority as much as they did. You had to hand it to the Game and his wife, they were fantastic villains. But they weren't characters like in a pantomime...it was their genuine personalities, and that made them sick, sick human beings – if they even qualified for that. '_I have it Paige. That precious title you've fought so hard to try and get back, it's all mine, and at Fastlane, you're be licking my boots as I pedigree you into the dust!'_

Quite suddenly, the lights went out.

Seth bit his lower lip, a bemused smile threatened to break free but he didn't quite let it. There was a curious sound, then a _scream_. It was bloodcurdling. Just about illuminated was the face of Stephanie and the Game. They looked confused, worried. But then, they were gone. The lights came back up, and there, alone in the ring with a black clad beauty, Stephanie looked around for her missing husband. Paige's eyes were wide, tongue licked her teeth as the woman turned to see her. A kick to the gut brought her to her knees. And then, out of the corner of the ring, swift, fast, she ran, jumped, foot to the back of Stephanie' neck, and brought her face crashing to the canvas. _The curbstomp_, his move. His girl had used his move. Stephanie was still, a trickle of blood on the matt...a broken nose?

Paige bent down, picked up the microphone and brought it to black painted lips.

'_So you want to play Stephanie? Well you should know, there are no rules in my house. So there will be no rules between us...this Sunday, I'll have you until one of us is the last woman standing!'_

She dropped the microphone, it hit the canvas and rolled with feedback as she raised a defiant fist into the air.

Roman scratched the side of his face.

'Hell of a girl you got yourself Seth.'

He wasn't sure how to answer. Paige had just called for a Last Man Standing match...he had no doubt she could win, but no disqualification could mean anything could happen, and the Authority wouldn't let her have an advantage. They'd do everything they could to tear her down. There was the rest of Raw to go, let alone the rest of the week. The screams of the crowd showed they would be behind Paige...but what about everyone else? The women's locker weren't afraid of the Authority anymore...they'd help if Paige needed it...but...

'You're going to be there right?' Roman nudged his arm. 'We all have to be, for her. She might not want us there, but she'll need us.'

'What's this 'us'? Last time I checked you were still stuck in a hospital bed and I have no intention of wheeling you all the way to Memphis.' Seth raised his eyebrows pointedly at Roman and took off his glasses to clean them. 'I'll be there, don't you doubt it, but I can't risk taking you or Dean along. Neither of you are in good enough shape to even jog five metres, let alone try and outrun the Authority. If Paige loses, they'll destroy her, if she wins, they'll try to. I'll be there, to get that fine ass the hell out of dodge when the time comes. If need be, hell I'll be in that match with her.'

For a moment Roman didn't respond, and then, a frown crept onto his face.

'Seth? Where is Dean?'

* * *

No one had seen him. It had been hours since he'd gone off to have his physiotherapy. A whole day. They'd not even noticed that he hadn't come back. Maybe he thought he'd started playing with some of the kids in the children's unit, after all, he'd made some good friends in there. It seemed to be his goal that whatever hospital he was in, he'd have an army of minions to overthrow the man. But no, no one had seen him. He'd not even turned up for the therapy. Lucia had taken him in that wheelchair to get him there. But where was she?

'Miss Salvador went home sick this morning,' a replacement nurse with a lazy eye told him. 'She was struck down with a fever and requested the rest of the day off to recover.' She seemed almost bored as she told him this and simultaneously changed Roman's bed sheets. Roman lingered nearby having refused to sit down, and perched himself up on a borrowed pair of Dean's crutches. 'I'm sure she'll be back tomorrow.'

'But she had a friend of ours with her. No one has seen him either.'

'I'm sure he'll turn up,' the nurse said with a shrug. 'Maybe he went outside for a walk.'

'He's just had his knee operated on.'

'Maybe he went for a smoke then.'

'For seven hours?'

'Some people are determined to rot their lungs sir.'

Realizing he was getting nowhere, Seth tried to fish his phone out of his pocket, but just as he was about to dial Dean, something caught his attention on the laptop. Paige stood, about to be interviewed by Renee Young. He stopped, and quickly turned the computer screen round so that he could see, pulled it onto his lap from the bed. Roman made his way over, stood behind the chair Seth slumped into, eyes on the screen.

'_Paige, that was quite a display of dominance you showed tonight. I think the question on all our minds is...just what happened? How on earth did you pull off that stunt, and what happened to the Game?' _Renee always looked lovely, but next to Paige, she almost looked dull to Seth's eyes.

Paige herself had a smile on her face, cocky, her eyes on fire. '_I have no idea what you're talking about Renee. Maybe the Game went for a walk. I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere.'_

Renee seemed happy enough to accept that answer, though she looked sceptical, '_Well now that Stephanie McMahon holds the Diva's title you will be facing her at Fastlane. You have declared this a Last Woman Standing match, one we haven't seen in the WWE for a very long time. Whilst Stephanie hasn't confirmed or denied the stipulation will happen yet, what made you challenge her in such an extreme format?_'

'_Stephanie McMahon has been running her mouth off long enough. It's time someone shut her up, permanently. Tonight, I broke her nose, Sunday, I'll break her neck.'_

Roman whistled.

Seth closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. So much for slow and steady.

Renee stared at Paige and almost seemed a little speechless before she managed to regain her composure. Paige herself didn't seem fazed at all, hands clasped in front of her, rocking a little on her heels. Happy as fucking Larry.

'_Speaking of Stephanie...she's with EMTs now...something I don't think anyone could ignore was the fact that instead of using your own finisher, the Paige Turner, you used that of Seth Rollins. You seem to have radically aligned yourself with the reformed Shield. Do you know anything of their whereabouts? It's been weeks since they were last seen. Any news on Roman's condition, or the Shield's plans for the title?'_

Before Paige could answer, she was knocked sideways. She collided with Renee and both women hit the floor. A hand reached down and pulled her up by her wrist, only to hurl her into the wall. Again, and again, before her head smacked it so hard her eyes dazed. Seth was on his feet, he shook, anger, fear welled inside of him. Paige tried to fight back, but some great weight pushed her hard, and her arm was twisted up behind her. The camera drew back as the Game pressed his face against hers. His eyes were pitted black and bruised. Whatever had happened to him, he'd felt it.

'_You think...you can just hurt my wife, and get away with it? You think you can just waltz in on her parade, and take it all away? You, you are the shit on my shoe. You and your precious Shield. I'll destroy you, all of you, piece,' _he picked at a strand of her hair, let it fall strand by strand, '_by piece. And I'll make your loverboy watch. I'll make Rollins watch every single second as you scream._'

'Seth -,'

He was about to hurl the laptop across the room, when the Game went the same direction. Something fast, quick as a demon was on him, fists flying, foam from teeth, eyes wild, leg caught in a trap, two thin sticks on the floor. He pulsed in pain, in anger. Blind from rage.

'_You don't touch her! You never touch her!_'

It felt like hours passed before the hits stopped, before he tried to get to his feet, stumbled and fell until she helped him. She slipped those crutches under his arms, veered him up onto his feet. The audience were ballistic. Paige touched his face, helped him stand, looked him all over. She didn't know what to say, and then, because she couldn't find the words, she kissed him straight on the mouth. Dean's eyes widened.

Seth's heart stopped.

The room felt cold. The kiss went on, before she released it. Dean had frozen against her for the first second or two, but then...

Seth didn't see anymore.

The laptop smacked off the floor, crunched in on one corner, the screen shattered. He slammed his foot down, over and over.

'Seth! Seth stop!'

He didn't hear it until he felt two strong arms around him, wrenching him into place. 'Seth calm down!'

'Calm down? Calm down?' he heaved himself free, pointed down at the tangled mess of wire and plastic on the floor. 'You saw what happened! You saw Roman!'

'I saw. I saw a woman show the man who'd helped her appreciation.'

'She kissed him Rome!'

'So? She's done it before.'

'He tried to kiss her back!'

'He's Dean. He doesn't understand Seth,' Roman had to sit down, he felt for the arm of the chair and fell back into it with a grunt. 'He doesn't know the boundaries, all he knows is desire and a punch in the face. You know he's always been fond of her, and you broke the damn laptop before you saw her push him away.'

'You don't know that happened!'

'Yeah, I do. Paige loves you Seth – you, though Lord only fucking knows why sometimes. She'd never do anything to hurt you. She loves Dean too, and me. But you're the one she kisses, you're the one she fucks, now get off your fucking high horse and realize that when you get the shit kicked out of you, sometimes the only way to thank someone is to kiss them.'

'Who are you _Cosmopolitan_?'

'I read that only once.'

Seth glared at him.

'Remember that time when we were out in Sioux Falls, in the airport bar?'

Yeah, he remembered. The girl who was so drunk that Seth had physically carried her to the medical bay. She'd grabbed his face and near eaten it, and all the while, Paige had laughed at him. But that was different. She'd been a complete stranger. Dean was his brother. Dean had never made any secret of the fact he lusted after Paige. It had all been a joke, funny until now.

'That's different!'

'Only because you want to argue with me.'

'You sound like my step-dad,' Seth growled.

Roman was the eldest of the three of them and sometimes you couldn't forget it.

'Just be thankful he was there to stop the Game before something worse happened Seth.'

'What was he doing there to begin with?'

Seth's pocket vibrated. Irritated, he dug for the phone. Dean. He answered, even though he was tempted to just throw it straight out of the window.

'_Brother, we have a problem_.'

'Oh you realized that did you?'

There was a confused pause.

'_It's about Paige...and me.'_

Seth gritted his back teeth. 'Oh?'

'_Your whore of a girlfriend broke my wife's nose Rollins. I'm not going to forgive that. Nor am I going to let Mr Ambrose get away with assaulting me_.'

He closed his eyes. The Game's voice was not what he needed right now. What he needed was a punch bag and unbreakable knuckles.

'This is getting boring Hunter.'

'_Well then, perhaps you shouldn't have turned against me Rollins. Then perhaps none of this or what's to come would have happened. What you see next, Seth, remember, this was your fault_.'

The phone cut out.

Seth looked to Roman, he'd heard it all. He'd broken their only means of seeing what was happening on Raw. They had no other means. They had to find one.

'You!' the poor nurse was still there, and had tried to edge toward the door through the whole thing, no doubt to try and call security. 'Is there a TV around here?'

'The – the staff room.'

'Well, take us!' Seth snapped as he helped Roman into a wheelchair. She didn't wait for them, but dashed through that door. They were after her in a split second. He didn't care about going slowly, rushed through the corridors, took the corners sharp and near knocked down screaming patients. Rome clung on for dear life. Turned out it was the other side of the hospital, and when they got there, Seth's heart was about to give out. Roman snatched the remote off some poor orderly and switched through channels until the familiar face of the Game took up the entire screen.

'—_and I think it's time certain people respected what we do for this company. It's us who keeps this entire place running, not the talent who think that just because they have a contract, they can do whatever they want. They think that they can humiliate us, assault us, steal from us, they think that just because they're over with the audience, that somehow gives them some sort of power! No! They don't have anything, nor do you, none of you have any right, any cause at all! You all need to learn, need to realize, that this sort of thing doesn't go unpunished, that there are rules, and I will be the one who enforces them!_'

'Likes to hear himself talk, doesn't he?' the orderly mused.

Seth ignored him, his and Roman's eyes glued firmly to the television fixed up on the wall. The camera drew back a little. The Game wasn't in the ring; instead, he was stood in a parking lot. His sleeves were rolled up, shirt unbuttoned. He took off his jacket. He dropped it to the floor, and turned toward one of the cars. They were parked oddly, in a circle instead of in their spaces. There, stood next to one, Paige. She looked unharmed, but as the Game walked toward her, she tried to jolt away, but was tugged back in place by her hands. As the camera closed in, it was clear to see she'd been shackled to the wing mirror. The car looked expensive – the Game's own perhaps. She looked irritated more than anything. But she was alright. Hunter grabbed one of her hands, bent his head to kiss and moved back before she could try and kick him. A sick smirk was on his mouth.

'_Now now Paige. That's no way to treat your boss now, is it? You know you should take a page out of Ambrose's book. He's been perfectly well behaved, haven't you Dean?'_

The impending sense of dread made nausea creep into his skull.

The camera panned over. There he was. Dean was up on his crutches, hands taped to the two sticks which held him up so he couldn't let go of them. Layers of the same tape smudged his mouth shut. His eyes were bulging, breath so heavy his whole body moved. If not for the tape he looked as if he were about to rip a chunk out of the Game's throat. He was against one of the cars. Joey and Jamie either side of him, their bodies pressing the crutches against the trunk of the car, stopping him from moving.

'_You know, I genuinely thought about having you committed Dean. Want to go back there? I wonder if they have a bed for an old friend._'

Dean had never been to an asylum. But he'd come close. So close – it had either been that or the WWE. A contract to beat the shit out of people, or locked away in a nice white box. The WWE had been to free him, not close in on him. The Game didn't know Dean's history, nor did he care. He just wanted to make him suffer, and from Connecticut, there was nothing Seth could do. Dean knew Joey and Jamie were on their side...but they couldn't show their allegiance in front of the Game or their covers were blown.

'Dean...'

'He'll be alright Rome.'

'You're looking at the same screen I am right?'

'_Now I could do this personally. Or I could get everyone in the Locker to come out and do this for me. But I like the idea of getting back in the fold. It'll prepare me for the match I have on Sunday, won't it Dean?_' His face was like stone. Out of nowhere, waltzed Stephanie. She had a massive plaster across her nose to fix it in place and looked ridiculous. Both Dean and Paige snorted at the sight of her.

'_We have a message. For Seth Rollins. I face your girlfriend on Sunday, it's true. But I can either face her in good health, or she can have broken legs. It's really quite simple. And what we want from you Seth, is just a little promise. A promise that you'll be here on Sunday...to face my husband for the title. If you agree,' _Stephanie stroked Paige's hair. '_Then she can keep her pretty little face, and your boy Dean won't have to worry about any more surgeries._'

'Roman,' Seth tugged his brother's long hair, 'Roman what do I do?'

Roman, for once, didn't seem to have some smart answer for him. The title, at this point, meant little to Seth. He'd already figured that out. What mattered was that his friends were safe and that they could work to bring down the Authority as a team. Being divided like this made him want to punch Dean himself. He'd been so fucking stupid going after Paige. He was in no condition to fight, and look at him now...He could just had it over. Give it to them. The greatest stage of them all, Wrestlemania was a month away. He could prepare for that, but Sunday?

On the screen, the Game had his sledgehammer.

'_Time's ticking Rollins_...' he said and swung. It smashed straight into Dean's stomach. The air knocked straight from him, he started to slump, but was caught by Jamie and Joey. Pain flashed through his face, made him white, but he stared down the Game. '_The longer you take, the more they get hurt._'

Seth pulled out his phone.

'You sure about this?'

'What choice do I have?'

He dialled, and held it to his ear. The Game looked down, and pulled his own phone out and put it to his ear.

'_Ah, Mr Rollins, so good of you to callI.'_

'I won't fight you at Fastlane Hunter. I won't. I'll _give_ you the title on Sunday, if you just leave them alone.'

The Game's face flashed in surprise. But then, he smirked, it was cruel like a sickle.

'_Well, well. That's a turn up for the books. How do I know you won't try and trick me Seth?'_

'Who's gonna help me? Seriously Hunter. I'm on my own here. Rome can barely stand, you have Dean...you have Paige.' He swallowed. 'Let them go, and you'll have it.'

He looked like he liked the sound of that offer.

'Seth -,'

He'd nearly always listened to Roman, but for now, no. If this was what it took to keep his friends safe, then he was willing to do it.

'_We have a deal Rollins_.' The Game nodded. He clicked his fingers at Joey and Jamie. One went toward Paige and the other came off Dean, one hand on his back to lead him forward. '_But just to make sure we have an understanding_,' Hunter turned toward Paige. '_She's staying with us until Sunday_.'

'No!'

'_Well unless you'd like to take her place Rollins, I see no alternative. And you can't, because you're not here. So Miss Paige will stay with us. Don't worry, we'll look after her, treat her well. All the things you haven't done for her recently. Come Sunday, she'll be free to fight for her title...and I'll have mine. Gentlemen, if you'd like to escort Mr Ambrose away.'_

Apparently escort meant 'shove in the trunk of the car and drive off'.

'_See you Sunday, Seth_.'

He hung up.

Seth stared down at the phone in his hand. Rage tangled through his body, the world was red and black, his fingers squeezed, crushed.

'Seth,' a hand on his wrist to calm him down. Seth blinked.

The phone was destroyed by his bloody fingertips.

'We need to do something Roman. We need to do something now.'


	22. Advocate

**((I just have to say thank you so much to everyone – we've reached over 8,000 views! I honestly can't believe how popular Seth's story has been. Once again a massive thank you to Vbajor10 for requesting the story from me in the first place! I hope that everyone is still enjoying it, and thank you all for your wonderful comments!))**

Out in the cold in front of Stamford Hospital, the clouds smothered the sky and each breath left a smoky trail. He'd wrapped himself up in a coat found in lost property, and he waited, and waited. The night was drawing on. But he knew somewhere up in the sky; one of the WWE private jets was on its way. Using Paige's headset he'd managed to patch through to J&amp;J, but now all he could do was hope he'd been fast enough to make a difference. They'd told him to sit tight, to wait and see. The nearest airport was Westchester, nearly twenty miles away. He'd lost track of time and the thin frost Winter had kissed Connecticut with was growing old quick. He'd forbidden Roman from coming outside, not in this weather, not in this cold. Besides, he needed some time alone.

His brothers falling into danger was one thing, but Paige? He'd let them all down. But it wasn't so much the fact that he'd failed – he was growing fast accustomed to that. But the open door of opportunity was quickly beginning to close. The time he thought they'd bought by disappearing from the scene wasn't proving as effective. If the Authority still had Paige then it had slammed shut with a bang, cutting off their chances. If. One phone call could have changed that. The slight splash of early rain hit his forehead as he looked beyond the street lights and out into the dark streets. Connecticut was a state that didn't sleep deeply. There was always a sign of the living, drifting along the roads, comatose on the pavements. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the cold stretch up his nose and circle the gaps in his skull where his eyes sat. There was a smell to the freshness which reminded him of chlorine; chemical.

Hours had passed and he waited for this one thing to a head. He couldn't quite hold onto himself, the feeling bubbling inside was some crude mixture of fear and anticipation. The elements were against them and they'd been dealt less than a dead man, but he felt oddly elated. The lengths that the Authority were willing to go to just to get his attention, were astounding. They had little on Paige beyond tonight. They knew what they were doing when she clambered into the ring and assaulted Stephanie. Their brains worked in tandem, they knew the enemy and worked in such a way that each tip of the scale that evening had brought them to a standpoint.

How long was this fucking taxi going to be?

Tempted to hijack a car, he only just restrained himself. He had enough shit going on without worrying about adding to his criminal record; said record only existed from joining the Shield and being led astray by Dean. Roman too had a clean bill before they'd been corrupted. A short smile snaked onto his lips. His glasses slid down his nose as a pair of headlights drew closer. He'd had plenty of time to think, and now, if he reached the airport in time, if things worked out right, he'd be picking up the pieces, all of them, in one swoop.

He squinted through the light and to his complete surprise, a car swung out in front of him, came to an abrupt halt. He bent to the window, but couldn't quite make out the driver through the cloud of cigarette smoke which appeared to surround his head.

'Seth Rollins?'

'Yes?'

Apparently that was the right answer. Hands were on his shoulders and within seconds he found himself in the back seat of a moving taxi. He tried to shuffle himself into a sitting position, only to discover that someone else was with him. He was fat, with a balding head, an expensive suit and he smelled of success and cynicism. He also looked unmistakably like a walrus. The taxi sped along the streets and he hoped it was going where he wanted to be, but it wasn't like this was how he'd planned to get there.

'Heyman,'

'Seth Rollins,'

That voice could have sold booze to CM Punk before he'd hot-footed it from the company; when it had happened, all anyone had felt was shock, but Seth...he'd oddly seen it coming. There was something there, beyond the unhappiness and health issues, he'd been driven away. He understood. But now as he looked at the manager with a red tie, he wondered what had happened for this to be his present. Seth switched his attention from the window to the other man.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'You're a sneaky little shit, you know that Rollins?' Heyman always seemed pleased with himself. A fat cat. 'Taking the title from Brock by reforming the Shield?' he kissed his fingers, 'Excellent, a perfect entree, I was impressed with you then. Even Brock Lesnar had to respect your guile. But that is not why I'm here.' He turned on the spot, one arm laid out on the seat back. 'I'm here Seth, is because I'm becoming very disappointed in you. You're lacking your spark, you're lacking the showmanship, you're lacking _you_.'

'You sound like you're going to try and sell me a self-help book.' It occurred to him once he'd said it, that Heyman pretty much was the human equivalent of a better living guide.

'I don't mind you making fun of me Seth. I don't mind, that you used your smarts and you fooled everyone. I don't mind, that you have the title. But what I do mind Seth, is that you are doing nothing with what you have. You run around in circles trailing the title behind you like a school child with a new kite. I see it Seth, the joy it had brought you. But it seems that now all it's doing to you, is causing you pain. I can see it Seth, I heard it in your voice earlier tonight. You're so desperate to maintain the peace, to keep people safe that you're willing to give up what they all helped you fight for. You have the title. But you're no champion.'

Well that stung.

'A champion,' Heyman continued, 'a champion stands tall, they stand center and they defend that title with every fiber of their being because it's what matters most in the whole of the WWE. They can have their lovers and their children, but at the end of the day they are the champion. And champions fight. Champions win. They climb the mountain, they wear the crown and they throw boulders down on anyone who tries to wrestle up that hill. You have done nothing, been no one but a nuisance to the Authority. Oh the crowds they _cheer _you. They _love_ you. But when their champion fails them?' he drew in breath. 'That's when there's no one else to help. You think, that just because you have the title, means you have the right to just, give it up? Oh no Seth. That's not how it works. The only way anyone should ever have it off you, is if they've crushed you into the ground, and they take it.'

Seth was silent, almost scared of the ferocity of the man. Heyman was now so close to Seth they were near nose to nose, Heyman's fist clenched in declaration.

'Brock Lesnar was a champion Seth. He destroyed everyone in his path. He didn't even _lose_ the title, oh no, you _took_ it from him. And that's fine but that doesn't mean you have the right to call yourself champion, to just throw that title away like it means nothing to you. It means _everything_. What do you think Roman would do? What would Dean do? If Paige held that sparkly pink butterfly, what would she do? They'd keep it, they'd defend it at the edge of a sword and they'd fight to the grisly end because they know what it means to be champion. They've seen it in Brock, they've seen it in Cena, in the Rock, Stone Cold all the great champions that have ever come before. What do they see, when they see you, Seth?'

His breath was peppermint and he'd never wanted to be so far away from freshness. Every time Heyman said his name, little flecks of spit flew from Heyman's mouth onto Seth's face. He flinched with every single one.

As if feeling he'd made his point, Heyman drew back to his side of the car. In a fight, Seth would have won, he was stronger, faster, but in a war of words, even at his best he could only just keep step with the walrus.

'They see a boy, with a belt, and no idea which direction to run.' Heyman's smile was sickening. 'Instead of a champion, with a title, heading for Wrestlemania.'

'You done?'

'Oh, oh yes. But only done talking. You can expect me to be in contact with you very soon Seth. Brock wants his title back, and if you don't have it, then I feel very sorry for you, because you'll be missing the gold, and watching his reign from the hospital bed.'

'You don't scare me Heyman. Nor does Brock Lesnar. I've been in the ring with him before. I've faced him. I've seen what he is, and that's a bull, who charges in the direction you let him loose. I'm not his enemy, Heyman. That's the man who pays his checks is the man who puts him in every single match which could take away all he has. In the ring, Heyman, you have a microphone and an audience, and that gives power to Lesnar. Here, in this car, with me, you're nothing but a fat man in a suit, with thick-skulled meat pile, pushing, pushing, pushing for just that, a push.'

Heyman liked that. That fat lipped smile alligator wide.

'All our lives we fight for a chance to make a difference. Not just to wear the championship. I fought for the right to get to the top so I'd have to be heard, so that I'd have to be seen, and so that the people I work with, fight with and love could have the same opportunities. I'm not looking for eternal glory, I'm looking change. And it'll come Heyman. Lesnar is one of a dying generation, the old guard who played in blood and carnage. We're the new breed, the wrestlers who welcome tomorrow and fight for today. You might not see me as champion Heyman, but I don't see you, as a threat.'

It felt like a confrontation with the devil himself. The smile had slid to a line, and thunder shook Heyman's eyes. He was the wrong man to make an enemy out of, but Seth knew it was inevitable. He knew that anyone who wasn't Brock Lesnar, was against Brock Lesnar.

'If this was supposed to be some sort of early warning, consider me aware Heyman. I have bigger things to worry about than you.'

The cab drew to a halt.

'I think this is your stop Heyman.'

The fat man didn't disagree, and opened the door. He squeezed himself out through it, into the night air. But before he closed the door, he poked his head back in once more. Those bulbous eyes almost seemed yellow in the meager light.

'Don't forget what we've spoken of Seth. It may not have come yet, but soon, you'll have to defend that championship of yours.'

'What makes you think I'll still have I after Fastlane?'

Heyman laughed, a dull bark, saluted with two fingers, and then slammed the door shut. The cab moved off, and Seth saw the fat man disappear into the distance, caught under a lamplight. And he could have sworn, as they drew away, that something huge wandered into the light. He shook his head. Any possible threat that Heyman and Lesnar would pose would be as and when. The Beast appeared only when it suited him and his bank account, though he had little doubt that Lesnar was coming. The oncoming storm had blasted through city after city, conquering them all. But Seth still stood.

He closed his eyes, rubbed his face as streets passed on by. The twenty miles had come and gone with each word doused on him by Paul Heyman. They drew in to Westchester County Airport, and he stumbled from the taxi with muffled promises to be straight back as he handed over the fare. The driver however, didn't have plans to stick around, as soon as Seth was on the curb, the engine revved and he was gone in a puff of smoke. Seth coughed and turned to peer around himself. It was ghastly, quiet and only a few stragglers stuck around. There was little point him going outside. He reached into his pocket and checked his phone.

_On the airfield._

Oh great.

As a teen he'd climbed regularly, even finding himself in restricted and private property. He'd always liked to snoop and to explore. Perhaps he'd not been as innocent as he'd originally tried to persuade himself he was; he'd just been better at not being caught once. He looked around himself, made his way round toward the fences – the ones which were supposed to keep people out. But there was no way in for him. Through the airport was his only chance until he felt his pocket vibrate once more.

_We see you. Hold on_.

He squinted through the bright airfield lights. There – he could make out something, malformed and shadowed coming toward him. His breath came deep, heavy, his heart just so. Here they came, closer, closer. Three bodies. Only three.

His heart sank.

J&amp;J were with Dean, one under each arm, helping him walk, bringing him closer to the fence. He looked worse for wear, face marked red where the tape had been yanked off of his mouth. He looked exhausted, sheepish, but oddly happy with himself. He saw Seth standing on the other side of the wire and tried to pull himself free of Joey and Jamie. He stumbled forward, only caught by his fingers in the rungs of the fence.

'Hey, hey there. We found you, we all flew away, whoosh, all of us.'

All of us?

Seth was about to open his mouth when he heard something, a clicking of heels. Elation claimed him as someone else emerged through the haze. Paige. She ran forward, and though she could only touch the parts of his face her fingers could reach, she kissed him with those thick, full, black lips.

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'Rough night?' he asked.

'Eh, could have been worse.'

'How did you get away?'

Dean apparently wanted to tell the story, because he bobbed up and down as best he could on his good leg, excited at the prospect. 'That lil' phone call you made was what did the trick, stalled the car enough for ol' J&amp;J to get Paige out of one trunk and in with Dean. Cosy.'

'We're just lucky that was enough. It was all I could do. You're both idiots for going along to Florida. You Dean, are grounded, and you're not leaving your room until I decide you are.'

Dean pouted but made no objection.

'Well what about me?'

'I'm tying to the bed and you're never leaving.'

'Promises, promises Mr Rollins, I hope you're not just saying things to get a girl excited.'

Dean waved, 'I hate to interrupt but before you two can have extremely sexual relations, I fear there is a fence in the way, and whilst I'm not above flyin' state to state, jumpin' over fences is a bit beyond this body right now.'

Oh they got him over that fence. Without a word, Jamie and Joey disappeared into the bright lights once more, no doubt to fly back to the Game's fury at Paige's disappearance. Cabs just weren't interested in picking them up until Paige flashed some leg and flicked her hair. They eventually had a choice of three, and went with the Indian gentleman who seemed more interested in their fare rather than hers. Squashed in the back together, the three of them spoke little. There were some things that needed to wait until they were in familiar territory. Besides, it was rather difficult for conversation to take place with his tongue wrapped around hers. Dean who was used to it, didn't seem to at all mind what was going on next to him, in fact, patted Seth's back in support. Paige's right leg hooked over both of Seth's, and he ran his hand over her fishnet clad thigh.

'I hope there's some private rooms in the hospital,' Seth managed between kisses.

'Fuck it, let 'em all watch.'

'Can I film it?' Dean added with bemusement, to be silence by both Seth and Paige giving him the middle finger. 'So rude...I thought we lived in a democracy, ain't that right pal?' he asked the taxi driver, who seemed far more interested in his opera CDs.

Each of her kisses was enough to drive him insane. They'd been minutes from being apart, perhaps for good. But now she was out of handcuffs and in his arms. He wanted to rip off every article of clothing with his teeth, lick every piece of skin, every drop of sweat. She gasped as he nipped her throat. Brought his mouth back to hers, smudged tar across both their lips. She was full to the brim with wanting, and he was fit to burst. She nudged his crotch with a hand and he couldn't help but groan at the explosion of pleasure.

'We're here.' Dean interrupted cheerfully.

They dropped him off with Roman, stumbled, blind with lust into an empty room, gurney ready for a new resident. She ripped at his jacket, desire so strong. He'd missed her, he loved her and they laughed together as they struggled to get undressed quick enough. She sat on the bed, and he undid her boots, tried to pull them off and flew backwards with effort. Her shorts, her tights were gone in a flash, a swipe of his hand. She could keep that bustier on. She seemed so tough, but under his touch, she squealed, giggled as he ran his hands over her arms, her breasts, her torso. Her skin was so soft under his rough palms, drag marks appeared over the white. You knew every inch he'd been. He kissed her throat, pressed himself between her thighs and adored every moan. She tugged at his jeans, his shorts, pulled him loose, but wouldn't let him inside.

He'd made a promise after all.

'But I don't have any rope,' he whined, suddenly cold in his nakedness, his glasses knocked askew. She laughed at him, pulled those spectacles off and bit the end before sliding them up her own nose.

'Well we'll have to do something different.' She raised her eyebrows, then turned herself over, moved so that her feet touched the floor and her back was to him. You could see the ridges of her spine as they sloped down into that perfect ass. 'Let's try a different position baby.'

Well didn't he feel the lucky boy – this was the special occasion way.

Seth didn't wait twice; he entered her with a satisfied moan. But as he did, someone walked past the door. They both froze. Paige, who had propped herself up on her elbows, looked over her shoulder at him.

'Better be quick, I think we're on camera,' she whispered and raised her eyes to the corner of the room. Sure enough, there was a CCTV lens, scoping them out. It saw every thrust, heard every single whisper and curse. It saw his fingers knot in her hair, as she held his hip and forced him deeper. It saw every kiss when she turned to face him, her legs wrap around his back. He loved her inside and out, against the wall, the bed, any surface. Nothing was enough. She breathed his name and when he came, she licked his lips with a wicked tongue, until he lowered his own down her body. When they were sweating sweet, finished and exhausted, the camera saw them redress and fail to find Seth's left boot until a nurse handed it to them on their way back to his brothers. She still wore his glasses, he still wore her black lipstick smudge.

Roman looked up when they walked into his room. Dean was sat in Seth's chair; he had Paige's laptop on his lap, a wicked grin and crazy eyes in place. Roman was trying to keep a straight face.

'Paige? You left the hospital security feed open on your laptop.'


	23. Our Battles

**((Hello everyone! This is incredible, in only one chapter we've reached over 8,300 views! I'm overwhelmed how many people drop by to read this story. It makes every word worthwhile! Your comments are beautiful and fill me with so much joy. So here is the latest update for you all! I hope that you enjoy it; it's a lot longer than some of the recent ones. Please, please continue to let me know what you think!))**

He could feel the tension in the room. Paige sat on the very edge of her seat, her obsidian nails dug into the skin of her knees through the holes in her skinny jeans. She'd not been able to sit down for more than five minutes.

'This is a bad idea,' she announced for the hundredth time.

They all knew it was. But Seth had given his word that he would be at Fastlane. There'd been no mention made of Paige escaping the Authority's clutches on Smackdown. They'd wanted to keep that a secret. After all, they'd made such a show about catching both her and Dean, it would have been far too embarrassing to let everyone know that she'd gotten away. Of course, they couldn't let them just wipe the whole incident under the carpet, so they'd made a little video on the old camcorder they'd used for their Shield promos – a relic Dean had carried with him ever since their debut. Not only that, but Paige had managed to hack into the WWE website and uploaded the video. The amount of hits was more than ridiculous. She'd thrown it up on the WWE Youtube page, Twitter, Facebook, every social media platform she could think of. All four of them had even posed for an obnoxious selfie for Instagram, just to piss the Game and his Mrs off further. The world knew, because they'd _screamed_ it out: the Authority had lost again.

Wearing his ring gear felt strange.

He stood in front of them all and posed with his arms out stretched. He'd lost weight. They could all see it, he could feel it, but no one would say he looked terrible. But it didn't matter. So what if everyone could see that everything had taken its toll on him? Maybe they'd realize just how hard he was working just to stay on top. His brothers, his girl had all done their parts, but tonight, he was going it alone. He'd told them they were staying behind, save for Paige. She had a title to fight for. They'd managed the plane flight to Memphis, Tennessee. The FedExForum was only a taxi ride away. The show had already started; Seth wanted to make his entrance one which would be remembered, and that meant going in with a bang. Now that the WWE Universe knew the truth, that the Game had no leverage against him, no one in their right minds thought that he'd actually be turning up. Seth had little intention of giving up the title now.

On Raw, he would have said anything.

But now, oddly, after his talk with Heyman, the very thought of just handing over the title without a fight seemed like sacrilege; like he'd be breaking some holy order. Roman was laid out on the hotel bed, the covers pulled up to his chest with Paige's laptop open next to him. He looked a thousand times better, but they were taking no chances. Lucia had come with them. She was in the room next door, and had given Roman a beeper in case he needed her, and she checked on him every hour, just to make sure he and Dean were safe. Dean, who was still grounded, was about as charming and nice to be around as a rhino with a hernia. He'd already broken two chairs and would have smashed the window if Lucia hadn't sedated him. He was pissed off at being left out, angry at being left behind, and furious at the thought of Seth starting a fight without him.

Because tonight was the real beginning of the Seth Rollins story.

Dean lay on the single bed next to Roman's double, asleep, his head smudged into the crook of his arm, his hair messed. He must have been dreaming because every now and again he twisted, made odd noises. It was hard to tell if his dreams were good or bad ones. Seth only hoped his brother would forgive him. But it was for his own good. The two of them needed rest, time to recuperate. By all rates, Dean should have been out for six months, but there was no chance he was going to let that happen. He seemingly had superhuman regenerative abilities. Any injury he'd ever sustained he seemed to get over in weeks instead of months. But this was major surgery. He had to give himself time, Roman too.

'_Ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention?'_

Roman liked to play the promo they'd filmed for the internet, it was one of his favorites, and almost felt like a declaration of war, like a drumbeat or a battle cry.

'_Now I know you all think that the Shield have been getting it rough. That the Authority has beaten us all down._' Seth listened to his own voice and wrinkled his nose. '_But we're still here Hunter. We're all still alive. And you may think that you can keep us in check because you have some kind of hold, some kind of leverage. But it looks like you failed again Hunter,_' at that moment, Paige came into shot, and the camera pulled back to reveal the four of them, Seth with the title over his shoulder, and one arm around his girl. '_We're broken and we've bled but we're still alive and we're still together, and this, this beauty is staying with us. This isn't just Seth Rollins, WWE World Heavyweight Champion. This is the Shield – Champions of the entire world. Tonight Hunter, I'm coming for you, for what you've done to us. I'm coming for you, to make you pay for trying to break us down, break us apart...and Stephanie? My girl has something to say to you._'

'_McMahon, I'm going to decorate the title with the entrails I've stomped out of you. When I'm done with you, and that title, it's not going to glitter, but run with the blood of the Billion Dollar Princess. Be afraid sweetheart, because I'm coming to get you_.'

'_See you at Fastlane.'_

It wasn't long; short but to the point, and it had been viewed by thousands – hundreds of thousands. They'd seen message boards spring up to show their support. On the live feed of Smackdown they'd seen hundreds of people holding signs saying '_Paige's Coming To Get You_', '_Look Out, Look Out, Seth is about_' and '_Shield Are The Champions_'. Heyman was wrong. The people loved them because of what they represented, not because of what he had done as the champion. Seth fully intended to defend who he was, what he was, and what he could be. The past had been messy, but the future was bright red and splattered with unimaginable violence. It was a collision course between mortal and god and Seth felt the weight of the title that was slung over his shoulder. He hugged it to his side and moved to the bed where Dean lay. He inched the blankets up over his brother, and rolled his head back a little so that he wouldn't suffocate. He was alive, unconscious, but no doubt fighting the effects. Lucia had filled that syringe with enough sedative to knock out an elephant, and even then it had taken a full half hour before Dean eventually succumbed.

'Keep an eye on him, won't you Rome?'

'Course I will. You two keep watch over each other. I don't wanna wake up to see your bloody corpses being dragged through the ring and thrown on the funeral pyre.'

Paige snorted, 'Seth is so full of hot air you'd see the flames from space.' She turned to him and straightened the black t-shirt he wore. A stiff sigh escaped through her nose and she looked worried. 'You sure about this?'

'I told the man I'd be there, and I'm not the sort to go back on my word.'

'Don't you let him touch that beautiful belt Seth. I mean it.' Roman muttered from the bed and pulled the laptop onto his legs. 'The only one who's going to take that from you is me when I get my championship match.'

Seth smiled at that. 'Ready and waiting Rome. Paige? I think it's time for us to make our entrance.'

* * *

When they'd given him his own theme, when he'd broken away from the Shield, he'd never been too sure of it. He'd never really been able to become accustomed to the idea that they'd fractured and now he was on his own. Oh he'd done so well. But now, tonight, there would be no _Second Coming_.

He saw the Game there. The night had fallen half way through, and Hunter had clearly waited long enough.

'_So as I think you are all aware, a certain deal was made between myself and a certain...Seth Rollins, on Monday Night Raw. Mr Rollins agreed to hand over his title to me. Now. Whilst circumstances may have changed during the course of the week, a bargain was made and I want him to uphold it. But as I'm sure you're all aware, Seth Rollins, is not here_.' There was a chorus of Shield chants and Seth felt his stomach flip flop. Paige's hand snaked down and took his. She squeezed his fingers, her eyes equally glued to the screen as his was. '_So, I can only come to the conclusion, that as well as a traitor, a thief and a maggot, Seth Rollins, is also a liar. But does this surprise me?'_ he shook his head, a cruel smirk on his face, like he had a secret that he just couldn't wait to share. '_No. Nothing surprises me. I've always watched over Seth Rollins and I knew he had the qualities to make a fantastic WWE World Heavyweight Champion. He's ruthless, like me. He's daring, like me. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that he comes out on top. He's learned so well from the Authority that at the end of the day, all he can do now that he's fallen from grace, is become the vagrant in the sewers. He sneaks in the shadows and he makes false promises, he's nothing more than a dagger in the back, a snake in the grass. Seth Rollins, is nothing more than -,'_

**Sierra. Hotel. India. Echo. Lima. Delta. **

The heavy guitar struck a chord with the Game. He looked about him with a grim face. The entrance was empty and the Memphis audience couldn't get enough. The mere sound of the old theme, was enough to bring them to their feet. It was enough to make them scream, shout, throw their popcorn and look around in frenzy.

He and Paige, made their way down the steps, hand in hand. She trailed after him. The title shone, polished, gleaming from his left shoulder. He wore that old vest, the parachute jacket, dusted off, but not done up. It hung loose and felt heavy, as if he'd picked up some old legacy. A thousand hands patted his shoulder and back as he walked down those steps. It felt like the old days had thrown back and brought him into the past. There was nothing like the buzz, the incredible high that came from direct interaction with the audience. These were the people who had built the WWE from its bare bones and would see it through to the bitter end. They'd loved the Shield, they'd loathed him, but he'd always felt the support too. There was no security to escort them. That wasn't the way, and when they reached the barrier, he released Paige's hand, and pressed his hands against the rim, and flipped himself over. The screams bombarded him, with a flourish, his arms were raised, he turned himself round to see every inch of the FedExForum. He brought his arms down and held a hand out to Paige as she vaulted herself over to land next to him. She didn't wear her ring gear, instead, she was dressed for battle in those jeans, the boots, studded gloves and cut off vest; her favorite leather jacket swung as she moved to heave herself up on the side of the ring. They were either side, Seth in front of the Game, Paige behind. Hunter looked wearily over his shoulder as they moved into the ring.

Eyes locked. Game to Seth, that belt was there, it shone as Seth took it from his shoulder and held it on high for the world to see, before he brought it back down to land heavy. Paige remained behind their boss, her black eyes narrow, but her lips wicked. Too much love could kill a man, and as Seth saw her drift, her body lithe, animalistic, his stomach could barely restrain his heart. But this wasn't the time to watch her, this was a moment he needed to swallow whole. His black gloved hand signaled for a microphone. One was quickly given, and in hand he raised it to his mouth.

'I'm sorry Hunter, were you about to say something? I could have sworn you were. But please, don't let me interrupt.'

He gestured for the other man to continue his tirade and folded his arms, the microphone in the crook of his arm.

The Game's glare could have killed. The silence between them was magnetic. He felt his breathing curdle and the urge inside to destroy was intense. He'd never wished for violence in his life. Instead, he'd fallen in love with the chaos, the success and the madness which drove it all. It was never about money or power. He wanted the adoration of the world. He wanted it all. There was a curious beat within the Forum. He peered around him. The people wanted to know what was going to be said, and they wanted to hear it now. They slammed their feet against the floor in perfect rhythm. A drum for their war.

'You hear them Hunter? They want to know what you were going to say about Seth Rollins. I'd love to hear it and I know Paige would to. I've got all the time in the world, but I must say I'm growing impatient, and I think they are too.' He raised the microphone to capture that echo, the _heartbeat_ of the universe, because then and there, they were the center of all creation. Everyone in the entire world needed to hear it. 'I think you'd better listen to them...'

It was as if the Game had a weight around his hand as it was raised to his lips. The death glare which squinted his small eyes fired bullets into Seth, but he didn't feel a single one. The audience made him bulletproof.

'You want me to rise to you Rollins. It's not going to work. You're here, and I want what was promised of me. Hand over the title Rollins, you're not worthy to carry it.'

Seth shook his head and a finger. 'I'm going to have to stop you there Hunter. Now I'm going to have to agree and say I might not have done a whole lot to proudly call myself Champion. But I'm worth this title. I _carry_ this title with pride. The Shield are the champions of this company. So you see Hunter, I don't carry it alone. And as it turns out, we had a vote. And I'm afraid to say that it was decided that it would be just plain rude of me to hand over something we fought so hard for. And to be honest, I think that you're in denial if you believe that you're the one who should wear it. You're an old man, Hunter. You're beginning to creak. I could hear your parts groan all the way up there,' he pointed to where he and Paige had entered. 'That could be fine; if you had any integrity – but you showed on Raw that you're a desperate man, Hunter. You're willing to trade on people's lives just to try and stay ahead of the train.' He tsked into the microphone. 'People respect a champion, Hunter, and I can't respect a man, who cheats, who brutalizes, who runs when he should stand and fight. I've something for you Hunter, but it's not the title -,'

He slammed the microphone so hard into the Game's thick skull that he felt the momentum travel through his entire arm. Stunned, the other man stumbled back, right into Paige. Quicker than lightning, she turned her body to the side, arms around his throat, carried forward and smashed him into the canvas. The bulldog brought roars from the people, and Stephanie from the back. But Paige had been waiting for her. She was ready. Stephanie was dressed for the same war. Seth glimpsed his black clad vixen slither out through the ropes and onto the floor. But his vision was marred as the Game came back onto him, a punch to the ribs that made the title fall onto the canvas. But Seth felt the ropes at his back. He rebounded and _flew_. He caught Hunter with a forearm, landed on his feet and stamped down on the chest of the other man. But the Game was no small opponent. He caught hold of Seth's ankle as it made contact with his stomach, rolled and dragged. Seth came under fire, a barrage of punches onto his head. He felt blood in the corner of his mouth, but saw the black eye blossom on the blur of Hunter's face. His crossed arms deflected some of the blows and a well timed headbutt knocked them both asunder.

But Seth wasn't finished. With a roar he threw himself forward, wrapped his arms around the Game's waist and drove him into the corner. The blood in his teeth urged him on, the screams in his ears drove his fists forward, down into that face. That fucking face he'd faked a smile at, the face he'd begged to, the smile he'd sought the blood of his friends for. He hated every inch of that skin. He hated the eyes. He hated every particle. He punched, he hit and kicked. Hunter took it all. It was only when Seth chanced a look to Paige that pain exploded. The fist that curled into his crotch was unforgiving, relentless as the Game struggled to his feet, eyes on fire. Blood ran from his nose and a cut under his eye. Hunter was maimed and he was angry. But Seth refused to bow. The clutch on his testicles tightened and he could hardly breathe. The fist to his face found him on the canvas, dizzy, but he gripped a hold of the suit pants of the Game, he started to climb back to his feet, never once looked away, even as spit smacked into his face.

A fistful of his hair sent him flying through the ropes. He smashed the barrier, crumpled to the floor. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. But somehow through the haze he saw as Paige was thrown into the ring, as she was forced down, her arms hooked behind her. He didn't think about himself. He forced himself up, up onto the apron, onto the ropes, he sprung feet first. His boots smashed into Hunter's face. He'd dared try to harm her. Seth saw only red as he unloaded. He tore at the thousand dollar shirt, bit the ear, clawed the eyes. He lost all faculties until he felt a dozen arms try and pull him back, heave him away. A score of referees and security swarmed the ring to try and pry the two men apart. But Seth didn't want intervention. He wanted _pain_. He screamed and fought, could see the Game only meters away.

Somewhere he heard Paige scream that she had the title. He saw her – up on the stage, at her feet, Stephanie. His blood pumped, he felt supersonic, superhuman.

'I'll kill you Seth!' Hunter roared. 'I'll kill you and I'll make everyone you love pay!'

They'd all paid in kind. Every one of them.

Somehow he broke free, he broke free and he launched himself over the men who held the Game back. He took him over the ropes, to the floor. The mat barely broke the fall, both winded, bruised, bloody. Seth somehow managed to crawl up, to straddle Hunter's chest. He reared his fist back.

'This is for Dean,' a smack straight between the eyes, knuckles taught. 'This is for Roman,' he snarled, the next punch to the face, harder, 'this is for Paige.' Another, he heard his own hand crunch, ignored the cramp and the pain. He spat his bloody saliva down. 'You think you had me, you thought you controlled me – you will never own me,'

They pulled him off; they forced him onto his front, hands behind his back. He felt as the plastic tags locked his wrists, as they lifted him from the floor, he kicked and he swore, he laughed – all to the cheers and wild adoration of the crowd. Seth looked to the stage to his baby; saw up on the Titanitron as the camera zoomed in on the swollen, battered face of Triple H. As they hauled him out back, he caught a passing glimpse of Paige as she held the title high to the music of the Shield.

* * *

'You're not going anywhere,'

He didn't know the security man's name, but he disliked the smirk on his face. Seth's fantastic mood was quickly diminishing. They'd not carried him out of the Forum. Instead, they took him out the back. They sat him down on a chair, his arms looped over the back. It was where most of the other wrestlers would sit and watch on a television what was going on out in the arena. The screen was bright and everything was live and chaotic, but he was completely alone, bar the black clad security. The cameras hadn't followed, they were still out the front. Paige had tailed until she'd been spotted. Before they could grab her, she was gone, gone with the title. None were getting their hands on it as long as she had it her way.

Seth glared at the screen.

He heard Michael Cole as he revealed that Triple H had been carried out on a stretcher. Seth's smile tugged at the corners. Stephanie McMahon was in the ring. She looked worse for wear, but he had to give the bitch queen credit, she was still standing. But who knew how long for? Around her waist was that belt. The _Diva's_ Championship. If Paige had it her way it would be the _Women's_ Championship again, like the days long gone. They were men, they were women, they were wrestlers. The microphone in Steph's hand shook with her fingers, the rage in her eyes could have set every human on the planet on fire.

'_Paige!_' she could barely control her voice. '_You and your precious Shield have damaged my husband. You...Come out here Paige! You thought you could ground me, but I'm still standing! This match is still on! I will not bow! I will not quit! I will stand before the count of ten! Paige! This ends here and now!'_

She came out to the sound of the Shield.

Both women were battered. He saw as Paige walked she had a limp, a split lip. Stephanie was bruised all over her right arm, her nose a little crooked. Seth swallowed, tested his arms, tried to see if there was any leverage. Only if he dislocated his own shoulders, if he got out of the chair, security would have destroyed him. He found himself feeling powerless as he saw Paige walk down that ramp, jaw set, steely determination carried her up onto the apron, back into that ring. She stared down Stephanie as the referee stood between them, that belt in hand.

The bell rang –

There were no rules in a Last Man Standing match. It became apparent within seconds as Stephanie snatched the belt and hurled it into Paige's face. She hit the ground, dazed to a quick count of three. She swung her legs around, caught Stephanie and took her down with her. Paige discarded the title, swept it aside and out of reach. She rolled on top of Stephanie's stomach, feet down on the other woman's hair, grabbed her by the ears and heaved back. The scream of pain was enough to curdle the blood. You could near see the hair beginning to pull out by the roots. Paige didn't seem to hear the cries, didn't care for the pain she was causing. Seth's heart pummeled. She could do this.

'Come on girl, come on...'

Stephanie's hand found Paige's chin, pushed back until she had no choice but to release her. The two women rolled away from one another and back to their feet. Paige was a raven, the darkest creature and swift and fearless, but Stephanie was a queen, undeterred, wronged and out for vengeance. They collided, Stephanie scratched at Paige's face, received a kick to the gut for her trouble, found herself thrown face first into the turnbuckle. She sagged and curled in on herself. _One, two, three, four, five, six –_ back on her feet with the ropes for aid. The braid Stephanie had woven her hair into had begun to undo, to tangle with the sweat on her face. Paige charged, but met the turnbuckle. She rebounded, dazed and found herself in a hasty, powerful, but undisciplined headlock. Stephanie screamed with effort. Paige choked, hands tried to pry herself free. Seth tugged against his bonds, tried to move, tried to stand but was forced back down into the chair. A hand on each shoulder cemented him in place, a hand in his hair made him watch.

Paige was beginning to fade.

'Paige!' he roared. She couldn't hear him. She couldn't see him. He couldn't even be out there to support her. They'd thought his punishment through with relish. Paige was on her knees, Stephanie mounted on her back as she forced her to look at the camera, just so Seth could get a good look. Paige's fingers twitched, her eyes began to close. _No no no, come on! Come on!_ Just as she seemed to be gone, Paige's eyes snapped open, she opened her mouth, tucked her chin as far back as she could and slammed her teeth into Stephanie's arm. With a cry of pain, the other woman released her. Paige choked, hacked, held her throat and somehow stumbled to her feet, one arm on the ring ropes. She turned to look to Stephanie. The clothesline took them both over to the floor. Paige's skull smacked the concrete.

'No!' he tried to squirm free.

He was deaf to the commentators; saw only as the referee clambered out after the two women. He checked on Paige, tried to fend Stephanie off, but was shoved aside. His girl was heaved up, limp, by her hair, dragged to a standing position, and thrown into the ring post. Her head knocked back, her body almost seemed to fall in slow motion, back, back, to hit the mat.

She didn't move.

'Paige!' Seth was up as much as he could, on his feet, he buckled and bit and snarled and screamed. They held him down, pinned him there, forced him to watch, forced him to see as Stephanie, uncaring, unmoved, breathless, but determined heaved Paige up from the floor, to the apron, and rolled her back into the ring. But she didn't follow right away. She lifted the ring skirt, searched one side then another, all the while, Paige lay still as the dead. It was only when the crowd collectively took in breath did she seem to stir. Her head moved a little as Stephanie clambered back into the ring. In hand was a kendo stick. He couldn't watch, didn't want to see. Heard only the thwack as it made impact with Paige's spine.

Again.

Again.

'You see this Rollins?' Stephanie roared. She didn't need a microphone to be heard. She kicked Paige onto her bruised spine. She raised her weapon. It fell down through the air. The crowd gasped. Seth opened his eyes. A hand stopped the stick, but it wasn't Paige's.

Nikki Bella stood in the ring. The crowd was deafening. She shook her head, snatched the weapon away and tossed it aside. She wasn't alone. To his shock, he saw as the women's roster clambered up on the apron. They stood by the ropes. Stephanie stared around her in horror. One by one, they came into the ring. They circled her, lions to an abandoned piece of prey. She tried to run. Nikki caught her hair, swung her round and straight into a slap by Brie. Dazed, Stephanie stumbled into Tamina who pushed her away, flicked up her leg and hit her hard with a superkick. The Billion Dollar Princess, hit the canvas. But she wasn't allowed to rest. The women descended on her in turn. It was almost painful to watch. The scream she pitched when locked into the Sharpshooter by Natalya almost made him feel sorry for her.

Paige was pulled up, her arms stretched out between Tamina and Alicia Fox. They pulled her forward so that she could see Stephanie, who was in turn forced to her feet by the Bellas. They helped her take the steps needed. With the strength she had, Paige hooked Stephanie, and swept her legs away. The Paige Turner was haphazard, but it was the last step of determination, and Paige collapsed on top of her opponent. The pin wasn't necessary, but she needed it. She needed to know she'd done it. The Ref started the count.

'_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...ten!_'

The bell rang.

'Yes! Yes!' His eyes were wide, he wanted nothing more than to be there. To run out to that ring. The other women helped her to her feet, the title was pressed into her hand. She could barely stand, could barely see, but she felt that belt in her grasp. He saw the tears that crept from her eyes, she collapsed against the people who'd helped her. She embraced them, and they lifted her on high. The body of Stephanie lay forgotten below them.

Seth's elation was cut short as the screen turned to black.

Kane.

He stood over him, crunched his knuckles. It could have been hard to fear him, even in the position he was in. He tried to scoot himself back, but security prevented him from doing so. The monster's shadow fell over him. He knew what was coming, he closed his eyes, turned his head away.

'Kane!'

Seth opened one eye. Jamie and Joey, in their smart suits headed toward them at break neck speed, and came to a staggered halt. Jamie straightened his blazer and looked up at the seven foot demon. 'Word from the Game, he wants you at the hospital.'

'I have work to do here,' Kane replied coolly. His eyes were fixed on Seth and he was very quickly reminded of just how cruel he'd been to the man. All in character; he could have felt guilty, but there wasn't an ounce of sympathy in his body for the demon. He'd done so much to them as the Shield, when he'd worked for the Authority it had been payback time. But Kane clearly wanted to throw right back at him all the misery he'd gifted him with. He drew back a massive hand, Seth flinched away, but Jamie and Joey moved in front of him. They blocked the shot completely.

'He wants you now Kane.' Jamie said as sternly as he could.

'I told you -,'

'Don't shoot the messenger.' Jamie frowned. 'He said he wants his right hand man. That's you now that this scumbag has turned on us.' He shot Seth a threatening glare that looked very well practiced.

The idea of being thought of as the second in command seemed to please Kane. He relaxed a little, he pulled back. With a snarl at Seth, he walked away in those smart black shoes of his.

'Move on, we have this.'

The security didn't look too sure. 'Go. Shoo. Piss off, before I let the boss know you're disobeying authority.'

They didn't want that.

Soon, it was just the three of them.

'You two couldn't have had better timing – help me out of this.' But to his complete surprise, both men shook their heads.

'Can 't help you escape Seth. The Game will know.' Jamie took off his jacket and put it on the back of one of the free chairs. Joey did the same, and in tandem, they began to roll up the sleeves of their shirts. They rounded on him. 'Don't worry. This will only hurt. No permanent damage just gotta make him think we're still on his side. Smile for the camera.' It was whispered, and Seth realized with wide eyes that one of the cameramen had found them. Joey moved to the television screen and turned it back on. The celebration in the ring had died down, and Paige, still held up by her friends frowned toward the Titanitron...because it showed him, tied to that chair, just as Jamie landed the first blow. It snapped his head sideways. He spat blood as Joey made his mark. Again, again, over and over until he couldn't feel anymore; they slammed fists into his gut, his face every part of him – and every single one was nothing but air. Oh they made contact, with some force, but there was only acted malice behind the attack. They didn't want to hurt him too much.

He glimpsed Paige stagger up the runway.

A sucker punch caught him, and everything went dark.

..._Paige?..._

* * *

She woke him with a kiss. When he reached for his head, he realized his bonds had been cut. He ached, but knew without searching, without feeling that the damage they'd inflicted was cosmetic, but what the Game had crushed into him went deeper. He'd caught his spine and sharpened his backbone. The back of the taxi was dark, save for the faint glimmer of gold and pink between them. The two titles were bloody, but theirs. There would be hell to pay. He gave her a smile, and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep again. His head leaned against the cold window, his breath clouded it and he drifted. She came against him, and he wrapped an arm around her, safe in their love, if only for now. It would not be long until they reached the hotel, but this moment was theirs, and in silence, they savored every second.


	24. To Climb The Mountain

**((Hi everyone! Here is a new chapter for you! I hope everyone enjoys it! I know it's a little on the short side, and I apologize, but I hope you like it nevertheless! Please let me know what you all think!))**

'I'm not entirely sure about this Rome – if something happens -,'

'I'll be fine. What trouble can I get into?'

'I wish you hadn't asked me that.'

Roman shrugged from his spot on the chair, _the_ chair in fact. The very one that Seth had sat in as his own allies beat the tar out of him. Today, he ached. But missing Raw wasn't an option anymore. Rome on the other hand could have stayed all safe and warm in the hotel room where Dean had casually been handcuffed to the bed so that he couldn't come with them. Lucia was with their idiosyncratic friend, and had been calming him down by reading _Grimm's Fairytales_ to him in Spanish. She had some magical power over that man that none of them could understand. Paige sat next to Roman. She looked awful but had the same conviction as Seth newly did. Champions couldn't stay away, no matter how much it hurt. For the first time since he'd really met her, Paige's hair was tied back – no doubt she'd let it down later. She planned to thank the women's roster for their help publically and wouldn't let her bruised spine stop her.

'Look, the Game isn't here. I could take on Stephanie with _both_ arms tied behind my back – no offence Paige – besides. I have my babysitters.' He jerked his head to the right. Sat not far away, were Dolph Ziggler and Natalya Hart, deep in conversation. The two had agreed in a split second to watch over Roman. When one had to leave for a match or a segment, they'd send someone in their stead. Roman clearly wasn't pleased with the idea of being protected. But it was necessary. After all, he'd only just half-mastered walking again, and if the Authority wanted an easy target, it was that skull of his. He seemed to forget that he'd been more than rattled – he'd nearly _died_. It was hard to argue with him, hard to win. He had this one look he could give, with those eyes of his that could crack any defence. 'All I'm going to do is sit here quietly and watch Raw. That isn't such a terrible thing is it?'

'Rome, we flew you to Nashville from Florida having recently had a brain haemorrhage. We are terrible people, let alone letting you do this.'

Roman shrugged. 'Still here aren't I?'

'Lord knows how...'

'Now listen to me Champ -,' Seth _loved_ hearing that. It was the first time Roman had really acknowledged him as the Champion – it seemed last night he'd not only earned the respect of the WWE Universe...but of one of his closest friends. 'You're going to be with me most of the night, when you're gone; I'll still have eyes on me. I won't do anything stupid.'

'Promise that?'

'I promise nothing.'

Seth sighed and rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger as Paige leaned over and embraced Roman gently. 'He's worried about you, silly dog.'

The Bridgestone Arena was beginning to fill up. Seth intended to begin Raw. He needed to have a little talk with the people. No doubt he'd be interrupted, but that was fine. He could handle himself. He'd shown that last night. Few people had ever sent the Game out on a stretcher, and Seth Rollins was one of them. The belt was round his waist, his arms were crossed and he'd never really felt quite as powerful as he did right then. But he was more than aware, that even with Triple H out of commission, he, they had to stay on their toes.

All around them members of the roster were preparing for the night ahead. Cesaro was in one corner, back against the wall, headphones on, casually ignoring Tyson Kidd as he tried to give him a game plan. Over there – the Bella twins, they were sharing a compact mirror, checking their make-up. Sat two seats back from Roman, was John Cena. He'd kept his nose out of the entire affair between the Shield and the Authority – most unlike him, and Seth had no doubt that he'd come gunning for the title at some point. Big John liked big belts. Seth gave him a short nod. John was in his own little world, but blinked and returned the gesture. For the first time in forever, it seemed he was at least on the same page as the rest of the locker. Maybe he wasn't on talking terms, going out for pizza terms or sneaky manly hug terms, but it was better than he could have hoped.

The nod from John meant the blessing had been given.

Whether anyone ever wanted to admit it or not, getting the approval of John Cena was a thing.

Seth looked down at the super shiny belt. The name had now been changed on it – they'd visited an engraver. He'd been more than surprised when the title had been slapped on the counter. But the chance to be the one to service the WWE World Heavyweight Championship belt, he couldn't miss that chance. He'd even done it for free – in return for Seth and Paige signing a piece of paper for his son. He gave the belt a quick polish with the edge of his t-shirt.

'Looks good on you, kid,' Roman said.

Seth couldn't help but grin back at him, 'You think?' he felt proud of that.

Suddenly, there was commotion from behind the curtain: fireworks, the show had begun. On a table near the entrance to the arena, was microphones, all lined up smartly. He moved to where they lay, and picked up one. It felt heavy in his hand. Paige stood by him, pulled him in by the neck and kissed his cheek. 'Let's go get 'em tiger.'

He took her hand, kissed it, and led her through the curtains. The Shield theme started up, the crowd roared, and they emerged out into the blinding lights and deafening screams. Walking down that ramp with his girl was the most bizarre and special thing. She walked like a gazelle, hips swayed and she looked venomous in her ring gear. He could only hope she'd sink those fangs of hers into him later on. The microphone was wrapped tight in his fingers. Paige's belt sparkled from her waist. She turned in the spot light, so that everyone could admire it's...sparkliness. Was that a word? Maybe it should have been. The title itself looked ridiculous. Maybe in time, they could do something about that...

When they reached the ring, Seth hoped up first and held the ropes so that Paige could clamber in easier. He followed through, and together they stood. He laced his fingers through hers, and raised both their arms to the ceiling. The support was incredible, the approval they received, the cheers...it all could have been too much, and he found himself nodding along to the chants of _power couple_.

'You've got that right,' he said into the microphone. 'In fact, I think we're out to replace the one couple who's been controlling the WWE for far too long. The Authority promised to take out the Shield, when we're doing exactly the same, to them. Last night at Fastlane, I put Triple H in hospital. But I didn't do it for me, I didn't do it for the title, I did it for Dean, I did it for Roman, I did it because if any of what they've been through had happened to me, they would have done exactly the same for me. The Shield aren't in the business of revenge...we're in the business of justice. Of making sure, that every foul act committed, is returned in kind. We,' he looked to Paige, 'we are the champions of this company, and you know for sure, that when Dean and Roman are back on their feet, they'll be caring gold as soon as they've re-entered the ring.'

'But this isn't what I came to talk to you about tonight; you see...I have a feeling that there is a target on my back. After what happened at Fastlane, chances are that the Authority are going to try and punish me, and everyone that matters to me. Ok. Fine. There is nothing that can be done to us that won't break us any more than we have been. _I was the man who destroyed the Shield_. No amount of damage will ever compare to what these two hands did. These two hands have loved the woman next to me and they have carried me to the top of the company. They've dragged my brothers and they've defended my face and held this microphone. These two hands sent the Game away on a stretcher. The Shield are not afraid any more. So I have a message for any who want to come after our titles, or our heads.'

The smug smirk tucked into his mouth so easily – after all, he'd worn it every day as a member of the Authority.

'Come get us.'

'Seth Rollins!'

Stephanie stood on that stage, a rather lovely shade of purple. There was no security, there was no weapon save for the microphone in her hand. From where Paige had put her now surgically repaired nose out of joint she had a plaster to hold it in place. Her make-up was immaculate, as was her hair. Save for the nose she looked as she always had. She exuded power and corruption, and he knew if she had half a chance, she'd skewer his balls on one of those stiletto shoes. 'You say you're not afraid of the Authority, of what we can do to you, to your friends? That's fine, because we have the means of bringing people you _are_ afraid of into the ring. I can write a cheque, and then you're gone and out of that ring, out of my hair and off this earth.'

'You're putting a hit on me Stephanie?' he couldn't stop the amusement creeping into his voice. 'I'm flattered.'

She looked like she was forgetting to breathe, but let out one long hiss. 'Laugh all you want Rollins. Tonight, I'm putting you in a match. But not just one – I'm putting you in _four_.' She held up four fingers just in case he didn't know how many she meant. 'And if you lose even one, Seth, then you are losing that lovely title as well.'

_Four_? That was a lot, and it worried him, but he didn't let it show. He didn't dare. If he did then Stephanie would know that she had him on the ropes. If he could get through them all he'd still be champion. But he didn't know who he'd be facing, the stipulations, anything. If he was lucky, then it would be one on one all the way through, just straight forward wrestling. But then, he doubted Stephanie would be that nice to him. He had an awful feeling that she didn't like him.

'You're not making this sound very fun for me Stephanie,' he said and shook his head. 'What if I disagree and say no? That would be rather embarrassing for you.'

'I don't think you will.'

She clicked her fingers.

Oh for fuck's sake.

One day he'd listen to his gut over anything else. It'd be safer for everyone involved. He couldn't help but jolt forward as the curtains twitched, but Paige held him back. The crowd took in breath. Trapped within the bear hug of the Big Show, Roman looked almost to be unconscious, save for the twitch of his feet.

'I'll even let you have him in your corner Rollins,' Stephanie said with a sickening smirk. 'Now say yes like a good puppy, or Show will cripple your pet dog.'

'Seth you're good, but even you can't win that many fights in the condition you're in,' Paige hissed. Seth looked down at her. His eyes were soft with love, and he silenced her objections with a kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers hard.

'Whatever happens, protect Roman.' He muttered. 'Don't worry about me.'

'That's all I do,'

He swallowed and pulled away from her, eyes to the stage, to Roman's prone body. 'Alright Stephanie, I'll play your game. But I have a condition of my own,'

'You think you're in the position to make demands?' she snarled. He saw Show's arms tighten a little around Roman and flinched.

'I want to pick my own opponents – people I think are worthy of holding this title. People who haven't had a chance in hell because of the Authority pushing them so far down the ladder they can't even _see_ the top of the mountain.'

The crowd approved of this. They cheered and they stamped their feet. He could hear two dozen names called out which by his calculation made up near the whole roster. But he had certain faces in mind – the people who'd helped them, or had shown such promise and been relegated to the mid-card. In his career he'd been so fortunate that people had seen his potential and he'd been given the championship matches to prove his worth. If he had to lose the title...he wanted to lose it to someone who actually deserved it.

Stephanie pretended to think about it. 'No.' The boos near deafened Seth, but they only fed her. 'No, I think we'll stick to _my_ plan Seth Rollins. And your very first opponent will be...Big Show.'

The hulking man walked down that ramp with purpose. He'd moved Roman to sit over his shoulder, body limp. A referee chased him and managed to get into the ring before the giant was even close. Seth handed Paige his microphone. He slowly unbuckled the belt with beating heart, and realized as the Big Show climbed over the top rope, and dropped Roman to the canvas like a sack of potatoes, that there was a very real chance of him losing the title. Damn Stephanie. But he wouldn't let her win so easy. He couldn't.

He told Roman he'd give him a title match. He had a promise to keep.

He moved quickly to his friend, crouched next to him, gently tapped his face to try and bring him to. He'd known it was a terrible idea. Imagine if Dean had managed to tag along to. He dreaded to think. The whole affair showed that Stephanie was as, if not more, dangerous than her hospitalised spouse. He couldn't quite shake the horrid feeling though, that there was more to this than punishing him. The Game may have been stretched out the night before, but he could be out; out and hidden away. Seth needed to stay on his toes, he needed to stay alert. With one thought, everything had become that much more dangerous.

'Come on Ro, I need you awake bro.'

Roman's eyes flicked open at the summoning. 'I think the plan went wrong.'

'Yeah, yeah I'm never bringing you ever again. You can tell me what happened later...in the meantime.' Seth glanced up to where Show glowered over him. 'I need you and Paige out of this ring.'

With Paige's help, he shuffled his brother to the side of the ring. He slid out and she held him up right until he could get his bearings. But just as Seth was about to hand the belt to the referee, he heard Stephanie once again.

'I'm sorry I don't believe I said _Paige_ could stay. In fact, I think she's _banned_ from ringside.'

A flash of panic jetted through Seth's face. He turned to Paige who starred up at him. He couldn't quite read her expression. But he saw her swallow. She knew that if she lingered, she'd be forced to the back. Carefully, she helped Roman into a chair. Then, she pulled herself up onto the barricade, balanced, and just to prove to Stephanie that she wasn't to be forgotten, she pulled free her title, and held it up to spite the woman in charge. The crowd was behind them all as she dropped down and disappeared among their numbers. Seth pulled off his shirt.

The bell rang.


	25. We Be Giants

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They'd fought before. They'd fought and Show had fallen because of the power, the might of the Shield combined together. His body wasn't as primed as it had been, and Roman was slumped in that chair in the corner. Dean was snug as a chained up bug. His brother was growing frustrated, and he knew that he would be watching right now, on Paige's laptop. He knew, that Dean would be screaming at the screen, calmed only by Lucia's lullabies.

Four matches.

The first obstacle was a giant. He closed his eyes for the half a second of peace he had, exhaled and only just moved out of the way as the colossus charged. Big Show was growing old, he was slowing down, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. If he caught you with those fights, those massive feet then you could be in trouble very quickly. Seth had power of his own – his speed, his reflexes, everything that made him a sure win were hampered by the injuries that crowded inside him. He felt his ribs shift with the simple manoeuvre of rolling to the left. He was on his feet as Show stopped himself and turned. He swung; Seth ducked down, the hairs on his head swayed by the action. Another swing – he caught it and heaved. There was no way he was getting the giant off his feet using his own strength, but he could use Big Show's against him. If he was fast enough, smart enough, he could get through the first fight without much damage taken. Show stumbled but managed to catch himself at the ropes.

He made to turn but Seth was faster. He rebounded off the opposite side; he ran, threw his body in the air and slammed his feet into the chest of Show. The crowd roared as he disappeared over the apron and onto that black mat floor. Seth's body hit the canvas hard. The wind crushed from his lungs as his hands were flat and his feet were against it. He pushed himself up slower than he should have. He couldn't let them see – the crowd, the Authority, Roman, Paige, anyone in the world...he couldn't let them see just how hurt he was. How he felt his ribs poke into his liver, how the muscles in his arms had to strain just to get him up. He couldn't let them know. He had to _fly_. Seth hit those ropes once again. His target was in sight, struggling back to his feet. He flung himself with abandon, over the apron, out onto the floor, and he tumbled down, straight onto Show. They hit the floor hard.

The cheers could have rung anyone's bells, but Seth's were already jingling. He shook his head, righted his vision and somehow managed to grip a hold of Show's head. He didn't feel sympathy for the man. Any that flashed were thrown back by the images of what he'd done to Dolph Ziggler, of what he'd done to Paige, to him. He'd teamed with the man so many times since he'd played the villain that he knew he caused pain for fun – there had been so many crocodile tears from the giant people were sick of whether he was good or bad. Seth's knee slammed into Show's jaw, once, twice, three times before two great hands raised and forced him away. He near stumbled but caught himself and charged again – primed for a curb stomp, but he needed higher. He jumped onto the turnbuckle, nearly into the crowd, balanced, ran, jumped, foot ready to slam –

Show's curled fist hit his stomach so hard he thought it had gone straight through.

Seth hit the bare floor. His head smacked back and the whole world spiralled. Two tree trunk legs appeared and he tried to raise a hand to push him away but nothing responded. Big Show had one hell of a treacle smirk on those lips. Just look at him, just look at that smug mug. Oh if Dean were here right now he'd have leaped at him right now, pummeled that face in. But Dean wasn't there. Only Seth was. He was on his own and he'd have to get right to work and stop lying about. He found himself in Big Show's bear hug, the air slowly being crushed from his lungs...and he just hung there, arms and legs limp, head lolled against the shoulder – just having a rest. Nothing on the line at all then and there; he was just having the life squeezed out of him. But killing him wouldn't win the title – he was pretty darn sure that was in the rule book somewhere.

Show charged.

Seth's back slammed into the ring post.

Ouch.

Dazed, but oddly refreshed, he demanded his body to listen to him. Any part of him – he just needed something to respond, to attack. Apparently his head was the only piece actually listening and without any hesitation he opened his mouth and slammed his teeth down on Show's ear. The _scream_...the giant released him. Seth fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. His arms, his hands, things started moving and he crawled out of the way as a kick was aimed at him. One caught his busted rips. He was on his back, pain cracked his vision, he coughed, he clutched his chest, but he couldn't stop, couldn't stay still. Show came closer – was that a blood trickle from the ear? Seth couldn't taste it, but felt proud of it. He crawled back, back – faster you idiot! His legs finally woke up as his back was against the barricade. Show roared, and launched himself forward.

Seth threw himself out of the way, just as the giant, collided. The barricade collapsed and Seth was vaguely aware of the ref shouting something...numbers. Numbers? Shit – they were being counted out! His legs wobbled as he scrambled to his feet, and threw himself onto the apron, rolled into the ring. Relief flooded him as the count ended. Too close.

Few people could get up from smashing through the barricade, but Show was beginning to stir. He couldn't give him the chance to recover. He couldn't give him the opportunity to land another crippling punch. The Rumble seemed a distant dream as he looked toward the corner and knew what he had to do. Seth started to climb the ropes. He shook as he balanced himself on the top of the turnbuckle. Below him, the announcement team, in the corner, Roman, who watched him with concern. Seth raised a hand; he saluted his injured brother, and jumped. It was a long fucking way. He only just met with Show's bulk, an elbow straight into the small of the back. It hurt. It really fucking hurt; pain blasted through his arm and he gripped it, eyes clenched. _Fuck, fuck, fuck..._beneath his bent body lay the giant, winded, not defeated. But if he could have him counted out...Seth saw the ring. It seemed very far away.

Hey look, chairs.

No, behave. There was no time for chairs, he couldn't let himself get disquali- wait. The title couldn't change hands with a disqualification. Stephanie had neglected to decide that it could. He could just take one of those steel chairs, and swing away at the fallen body of Show. He could just do it and he'd be one match done. But if he did...how quickly would the rules change and he lose the title because he was desperate?

A piece of the barricade had fallen onto his legs and he forced it away. His arm screamed at him as he stumbled like a drunk back to the ring. He climbed in like it was his first time, and crumpled into a tired heap in one corner. He rubbed his elbow bitterly, watched Show, and dared him to get back up again. The crowd were loving it – and even Roman was on his feet, peering over to the giant. The voice of the WWE Universe chanted numbers, counted to ten with the referee.

Seth's head tilted against the ring post as the explosion of joy rallied the arena. He saw a haze of black and white as a dozen or so referees rushed out to help the Big Show. _One down_...he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Roman.

'How you feeling?'

'Like a bus just slammed me into a wall,' Seth growled. 'My fucking ribs are killing me.'

But his fucking ribs weren't about to get any rest. A mocking clap echoed around and he looked to the stage to find Stephanie standing there. She looked irritated and pleased all at once – how did the human face contort that way? Was she just born evil? He could bet that her real life was a cackle and that the limo that drove her about was just a high powered broomstick. He pushed himself against the ring post, forced himself up to his feet.

'Well done Seth. That's one down. I'm impressed.' She was not impressed. She lied. 'But now for your next match Rollins. And I think we should make this one a little more interesting, don't you?'

'How about no?' Seth shouted, though he knew she couldn't hear him.

'So for this match, I think we should say – no count outs.'

Fucking figured.

'And your next opponent shall be...Kane!'

Shit.

The mood the Big Red Machine was in was not a good one. He'd missed out on beating the crap out of Seth the previous night...he didn't doubt that tonight he'd be given it all tenfold. Though he still couldn't get over seeing Kane in dress pants – this was the brother of the Undertaker, this was a man he feared on television as he was growing up. Once, he'd been a monster...now he was a ginger man with a bit of a belly and shiny shoes...who seemed to have supernatural power over the pyro. Oh they all knew it was timed...he just had this strange knack of making fire appear wherever he was. It wasn't completely unreasonable to fear being burned alive.

Kane strode down that ramp with purpose, eyes fixed on Seth, murder inside.

'Better get back Rome, this'll be ugly.'

Roman seemed reluctant, but Seth looked down at him with a small smile. 'I got this bro.'

Kane ran a shoulder into his stomach a second later. He hadn't even heard the bell. Seth buckled, but another threw him, again and again until the ref shoved Kane back. Seth only had a moment to catch his breath before Kane grabbed his hair and heaved. Pain exploded at the roots and Seth hit the canvas. He could have sworn he heard something tear and felt his head tenderly with his gloved hands. Up above him, Kane smirked, in his hand, a handful of hair. He looked at it in his fingers and then, he _sniffed_ it, ran the clump over the side of his face and all the while _smiled_. Seth felt sick, but he pushed himself up. There was no way of gluing that back into place. His naturally thick hair would save him a bald patch but that was...horrific. Kane eyed him and stomped forward. Seth dropped to the canvas; his feet twisted around Kane's and brought him down too. He rolled up, kicked down, again and again and again. But Kane was fresh, Kane wasn't hurt and he turned in place, caught Seth's foot.

Shit.

Stranded in place, Seth tried to swipe at Kane's face, but he was out of reach. Bastard just smiled the whole time, didn't let up, didn't stop, like it had been stapled in place. New plan. Seth swung his leg over, felt as it knocked into Kane's neck. He was released and crawled to the ropes to pull himself back up. But no sooner was he on his feet, that a forearm slammed straight into his throat, and he and Kane fell. To his complete surprise, he landed on his feet. He grasped at his throat. He needed some recovery time – some distance. The stage was free – Stephanie had disappeared out back. Hell, he could run through those curtains and disappear; the match would have to continue. But if he left Roman out in the arena alone with Kane...no, he had to stay. His back was against the ring apron, Kane was up, stalked him as they moved around the ring, slowly, predator to prey. Seth had to wait, had to be patient – now!

He ducked out of the way and Kane slammed shoulder first into the steps. Seth clambered up onto the ring apron. He waited, heart pounded as Kane tried to get up, one hand on the remaining ring step. Seth ran and crashed down through the air; feet brought together and slammed his whole weight onto of Kane's fingers. He could almost feel the knuckles pop beneath his boots. He rolled off the impact and came to a standing halt as the Big Red Machine inspected the damage. He was still smiling. The pain was there in his eyes but it was like his face didn't register it. What was going on? Unnerved, Seth backed off a little as Kane came to his feet and started to hunt him once again. Into the ring – he started to climb but hands caught his foot and dragged him back. Fear gripped him – of what was coming.

The impact was unimaginable. Skull to skull – the world went black.

He could hear everything, he could _feel_ everything. He felt his body hit the floor, flashes of light breaking through the shadow. He was lifted into the air. He felt as he was thrown onto the canvas. A heavy body, hot, sweaty landed on top of him, his leg crooked.

Instinct – that's all he could call it. He lifted an arm – and punched Kane straight in the face. The world was nothing, he was fucking blind. He didn't know up from down, his legs staggered.

'Seth! Seth move!'

He did, he threw himself aside with no idea where he would land.

'Left!'

He rolled, heard as something hit the canvas.

'Kick Seth!'

Which leg? Both? He flung them both round. They hit something fleshy. More flashes of vision. His head throbbed, it hurt, like a hatchet had been snapped into the front of his skull.

'Get up Seth! Get up!'

Roman's guiding voice brought him somehow to his feet, he felt blindly for the ropes. His fingers curled around something – a hand. A hand to hold him steady – his brother had his back.

'On your right!'

The fingers let go and Seth swung a fist wildly, but met nothing but air. Shit. Something smashed into his chest. Seth flew back, hit the corner, limp once again. A dream, this was all a nasty dream, he was really still asleep, waiting for Raw to come round. He would turn his body and he'd find Paige naked next to him. He could almost smell the salt on her skin, he could almost feel the softness of her hair. Hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him forward, onto his front, a foot on his back, fingers knotted in his hair and pulled.

He couldn't stop the cry of pain. He could feel it tear, pulling out of the roots in two great fists.

His hands clawed up at the fingers, he'd broken some. He found them, he squeezed with all his might, all the while the pain erupted from every pore of his body. Kane let go. Seth shook, his head sore and his brain worse for wear, he tried to get up but was met with kick after kick. He tried to crawl his way to his feet, darkness, he was blind and he was alone. A hand found his throat. Air choked out, Seth flailed as he was lifted through the air.

'Seth! Kick him! Come on brother!'

What was that? A strange noise caught his attention, a sort of...scuffling. Roman? Where had Roman gone? The silence activated something in his head, alarm bells. He felt himself plummet down through the air but he turned, caught hold of the trunk like legs of Kane with his own and brought them both crashing down. They lay there, both, heaving great breaths of air. Light started to pool at the edges of Seth's vision. Those sounds – where was Roman? He rolled onto his stomach, started to crawl toward the noise.

'Just shut him up dammit! I don't care how you do it, just stop him helping him!'

Stephanie?

Seth shook his head. The choke slam had done its damage but it seemed to be turning the lights back on. Another shake, every second wasted would give Kane more time to come back after him. His hand reached out for his brother, he found the ring ropes instead. Something smacked him hard round the face. Everything burst into bright color, it fuzzed and moved until it all came into perfect focus. Stephanie, security, J&amp;J...and at the center of it all, Roman. He couldn't quite see what was happening –

'Rome!'

Fingers clamped down, a knee in his back, thrust his throat against the middle rope. Seth clawed, choked for air. Stephanie seemed to notice. She smirked at him, came close, and stroked the side of his face with sharp nails.

'We can't have you cheating Seth, that's just not fair on Kane,' she whispered. 'Don't worry. Reigns will be just fine.'

She kissed him.

Her hands were in his hair and her lips crushed his and his eyes were wild and he tried to shove her away. She broke it with a satisfied gasp. Cold blood ran through him, and he forgot how to breathe as she laughed at him. The rope crushed his windpipe. The ref counted, Kane released. Seth just hung there in shock. The way she smirked at him – the way she knew what she'd done...he closed his eyes, prayed to any god listening that Paige had restraint. He was almost waiting for the music to hit...but she didn't appear. The look of disappointment in Stephanie's eyes was actually delicious, but she didn't let that look on her face slip one second.

'Destroy him!' she snarled.

He was pulled back. But he was awake now. He was live wired. She would not win. He roared in pain as he was flung back by the roots, but he caught his footing, he ran forward, charged and slammed his shoulder straight into Kane. He drove him back, pushed with all his might and energy, back into the corner. He didn't let up, even as the blackness started to blur once again. He climbed, stood above Kane, and started to punch down. The crowd counted for him, told him just how many times he was smashing the sadistic bastard in the face. He was blind to the world until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye – Roman.

Security had parted just a little. What the – had they – yes, they had. Roman's mouth was firmly duct taped shut. To stop him shouting out help; Roman looked angry. His hands pinned together with more of the stuff. Seth couldn't just leave him like that. He stepped up, foot straight into Kane's face and jumped. Security fell like fucking dominoes. Seth was next to Roman who'd been knocked over too, and pulled him to his feet. He unwound the tape from his brother's wrists.

'How you keeping Rome?'

Roman peeled the rest away from his mouth with a flourish, 'Been better,' his brother admitted.

Kane threw himself over the ropes. Seth and Roman stepped smartly aside. The mass hit the mat hard. 'You sure you wanna stay out here?' Seth asked, and kicked the heap irritably. 'They might try and pull that stunt again.'

'What, trying to stop me helping my brother?' Roman shrugged, and looked down. He plucked the roll of tape which had been dropped by security. 'You handle Kane. I'll handle these guys.'

Seth nodded slowly. He bent down, grabbed one of Kane's arms and dragged him to his feet. He was fucking heavy. With a great shove, he somehow managed to get him back into the ring. He kicked hard to roll him to the center. Kane juddered, started to stand. Not this time. Seth rebounded off the ropes, foot raised high and slammed it down onto Kane's skull. The monster slammed face first into the canvas. Seth collapsed on top of him.

'One, two, three!'

Relief; he glanced over to where Roman stood, admiring his new handy work. J&amp;J were sat on the floor, tape wound round them, to keep them...secure. Ha. Oh the two were on their side, he knew that, but the Authority had to think they were enemies. The rest of the security team had scattered now that Roman was free. Stephanie? She was legging it back up that ramp as fast as she could in those stupidly high heels of hers. Seth, blinking away the lights of victory, rolled away from Kane before the demon could assault him further, and slipped back out under the ropes. He staggered to the barrier and leaned on it, chest rose and fell hard. Roman placed a hand on his shoulder.

'I'm not doing good Rome, can barely see.'

'I know, that's why they tried to stop me talking,' his brother muttered quietly.

'Two more Rome, I'm dying. I'm actually dying.'

'You're still breathing Seth. You gotta keep going. You have to keep fighting; otherwise they'll take that title out from underneath you as they beat us both into early graves.'

Seth looked at him, curious, 'You think I can do this, don't you?'

Roman's serious eyes often had a warm quality to them, like he was seeing straight into your soul. His grip on his shoulder tightened, 'I have never had more faith in you, brother.'

He pulled Seth into an embrace which crushed his ribs but gave strength to his fluctuating heart. He pressed his forehead against Seth's sweating one.

Music hit.


	26. Flickers

**((Hello everyone! Sorry about the delay. Here is the newest entry into Seth's story! I hope that you like it! We've nearly reached 9,500 views which is absolutely incredible! Thank you for your continued support and I hope that you are all enjoying December!))**

Stephanie waltzed out onto that stage like she owned the entire world. Her surgically repaired nose seemed to precede her like those enhanced tits of hers. She had her father's strut, and even when she tried to be light on her feet she failed miserably. Still held up by Roman, Seth peered at her through his sweat and those fuzzed out eyes of his. Nothing was ever clear without his glasses. The contact lenses he'd put in were floating and he was starting to feel sick from the same feeling. The microphone in her hand signalled the next contender and Seth was beginning to lose the will to stand. But this had been a long time coming – he'd been waiting for his chance to betray them, and this was _their_ chance to pay him back for it and for all the annoyances he'd delivered to their front door.

'You're doing well Seth. Better than I thought you would, I'll give you that. But I think you'll find your next opponent a little too much for you to handle, especially since this next match will be no disqualification.'

He could see her smug smile on the big screen and instantly felt sorry for the masses all over the world that had to suffer through it with him. There were many wonders that he'd seen and experienced – but few things matched the tide of jeers and disapproval, the loathing, the pure _hatred_ that was roused from the audience. He looked around him, unable to grasp just how they supported him – how they wanted him to win. They wanted the snake of the Authority cut into pieces. Stephanie seemed to adore the malice.

'Oh shut up,' she pointed down to them – at Roman, 'you're proving a pain, dog. I don't think I want you next to my ring anymore.'

'Just try and make me leave,' Roman growled. His arms were firmly wrapped in a protective cage around Seth, fingers locked to prevent him from leaving – or to stop Roman charging up that ramp. Seth had never really thought about how protected he was by his brother – but that was really what Roman did. He cared for them all. He put his own body on the line so that they didn't have to suffer any further. When they'd faced Evolution, he could remember the thwack of the kendo sticks across Roman's spine, and how he and Dean had been bought time to recover through Roman's sheer endurance. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Of course Stephanie couldn't hear his words – but she seemed to get the gist of it. She cocked her head to one side and gave them a shrug.

'Well if you won't leave Roman, then I guess I'll have to make you. And Seth? Here's your next opponent.'

There was something about the way she said that which made Seth's skin crawl.

The lights cut out.

It could only mean one thing – that darkness.

'Rome -,'

The flicker of a light up on the stage; a lantern.

'Rome -,'

All over the arena new lights flickered – hundreds, thousands as the firefly phones started to glow. He head the music beat. He felt too hot, sick at the sheer thought of what was coming for him. He wasn't alone but he might as well have been. Roman's head couldn't take damage, he couldn't help him – no one could. What would Dean be doing? What would he be saying? Would he be screaming at the laptop scream? Would he buck against his restraints? Would he threaten Lucia? Beg her to let him go? This was an enemy they swore they'd fight together.

He could see Wyatt's face illuminated in the glow.

Evil moved too fucking slow.

He could hear his own heart, he could feel his blood pound and his muscles strained. He couldn't run from this – he couldn't hide, so he'd have to stand and fight. Everything was screaming and everything hurt. He tried to pull himself free of Roman, but his brother clung on, refused to let him go. The lights came up as Wyatt blew out that lantern. Wyatt travelled alone – his flock 'set free'. There was no sign of any helping coming with him.

Until Seth turned his head.

Roman was gone.

Instead, hands on his arms, eyes staring down with mania – Harper.

He didn't have time to react. His body was thrown sideways, across the commentary table. His head hit the chairs and his body smacked straight into the barrier. Lost among a sea of confused legs as the commentators attempted to get away, he couldn't find anywhere to place his hands, to push himself up. He didn't get given the time. Harper's hands heaved him up from the floor and wrenched his arms behind his back, shoved him toward that ring. But Wyatt waited on the floor, that gleeful look in his devil's eyes as he threw his hat aside, and he roared.

Seth had faced him before. But he was always thrown.

The man had a demon inside him – he'd never believed in them, but you couldn't escape the prison of Wyatt's eyes, you couldn't slip through his words or forget the very real fact that he'd brought the Shield to its knees before.

Wyatt's fist smashed into Seth's face. His jaw cracked, crunched with the second blow. His skin started to blossom with the third and a cut slit open under his eye with the fourth blow. The blood trickled down and painted Wyatt's knuckles. The sick bastard licked them clean and with Harper, hauled Seth into the ring. No disqualification – he could use his second in command without fear of being thrown out. It was a brave referee who tried to expel the Wyatt Family.

Seth stared up at the ceiling. There was some feeling within him but he couldn't quite place where it was. He tried to flex is fingers and bend his toes but function seemed limited to brain activity – _where's Roman?_ He somehow turned himself onto his belly, looked out through the bottom ropes and tried to scan the crowd, tried to look through ring side, but found no sign of his brother. He was so, completely alone.

_Thwack_.

Pain exploded in his back. He knew what it was – had felt it before. The cameras were as close as they could be – projected the agony he could no longer hide onto the big screen. His teeth gritted and his fists closed. The only way to protect his back was to roll onto his front. Another smack as the kendo stick splintered against his bare spine. One more for fucking luck – pain seared through his skin as he pressed down his hands to try and force himself back up. Two heavy boots crushed his fingers and picked up a scream from Seth. Somehow his knuckles held out. Harper's sweating arms locked around his own and heaved him up, held him in place, head tucked under armpit to stop Seth squirming free, leaving his back open for assault.

He heard Wyatt laugh at him. The welts that were already beginning to form stung like a hornet had attacked him. He closed his eyes, tried to regulate his breathing as the beating continued. Wyatt slammed that blasted stick into his back, his thighs, his calves until his legs gave out and Harper alone kept him upright. The crowd sounded horrified.

'That's it. Destroy him!'

Stephanie had stuck around for the show it seemed. Another smack and Harper released him. He hit the canvas, curled up. His spine felt two hundred degrees. Seth wrapped his arms around himself, shook, and prepared himself for the next inevitable blow. But it didn't come. Through sticky strands of hair, he saw Wyatt silhouetted against the lights, the stick against his shoulder, a microphone in his hand. He wasn't even looking at Seth, instead, his eyes were on the stage, where Stephanie squawked at him.

'Now you, you don't tell me what to do – what power do you have, over the devil himself, when you can't control the people you shower in the gold?' he shook his head. 'I've seen power – I've seen control! I've tasted the tears and the sweat of the people who fall to my feet and proclaim that they've seen the light and they want to follow me down into the dark. I have devotion – men would give me their bleeding hearts pulled out of their chests by their own hand, if I asked that of them. You -,' he pointed that kendo stick up at Stephanie, 'you have no power over me.'

She stared at him open mouthed.

Seth struggled to stand, found himself pinned to the floor by one great foot – Harper.

'Wyatt dammit I -,'

'You have no power here.' He whispered. 'You have nothing – he, he has everything to lose, but you, you have nothing to gain.' Wyatt turned his attention down to Seth. He squirmed, tried to break himself free. 'He...' Wyatt was on his knee next to him, a hand reached out and moved the hair from Seth's face – almost tenderly -, 'he might be a dog in the dirt but he has a soul to reap...and all you have is fear!' he turned his head over his shoulder to stare at Stephanie once more. 'Fear I can taste – fear that you are obsolete and that the world just doesn't need you anymore – that without the man at your side you can be so easily defeated. And you just can't see that the tyrant you want to be, is just a girl trying to stand up to monsters in the dark.'

Seth wished he could see the expression on Stephanie's face. The darkness which plucked at the corners of his sight blurred in and out of existence and he wondered if it was his consciousness on the blink from all the pain, or if his brain just wanted to shut down, to block it all out so that he didn't have to look at the disappointed faces around him. They wanted him to win. Roman had believed he could, but with both Wyatt and Harper to contend with, and with no strength left...how in hell could he hope to survive?

He felt Wyatt's hand on his head once again. 'This man has the love of the people! Hear them scream!' the audience erupted. Pain flashed through him as fingers curled into his hair, lifted his head up, but his body still held down by Harper. 'And it's their love, which will kill you, Seth Rollins.'

Harper released. Wyatt heaved him up, dragged him into position for the last kiss of Sister Abigail. He didn't have anything in him to fight back. Seth closed his eyes and waited. But nothing came. He hung there in time and space and the world around him seemed to continue. He didn't realize Wyatt had let go until he hit the canvas.

'Hey!'

No. No it couldn't be.

Seth weakly looked up from the ground, looked toward that big screen, and saw a wondrous sight. There, the cleanest he'd ever looked, hand still cuffed to the bed, other hand apparently holding that beloved camera of his, was Dean. He didn't look happy. How in hell did he patch into the live feed?...But of course, Paige.

'Now Wyatt I'm not going to pretend that you're suddenly less of a swampy scumbag for the verbal beat down you just gave the princess. Not gonna lie, might have loved you a little bit for a second there. But putting your hands on my brother?' he shook his head and an index finger on his cuffed hand, 'that's not nice. I approve – because I don't play nice. No DQ? That's my game baby. It's my hell hole when the rules go down the drain and I don't think I like the idea of y'all playing without me. I taught Seth well and he ain't going down without a fight – and if he thinks he is, then he's forgetting the first rule of DQ.' He leaned in close to the camera. 'And that's if a man's got the balls to fight without honor, without rules, to descend into madness and beautiful fucking chaos, then -,'

His face collapsed into a grin.

'He's got balls to break.'

Seth's closed fist slammed so hard into Wyatt's groin he thought he felt a hip bone. Wyatt's face blanched because even the devil could feel his testicles squeeze. He turned as Harper charged, ducked down and threw himself upward at the waist, flipping the massive man over a shoulder, straight into Wyatt. The two men fell in a heap. Second wind didn't quite cover it – he was _making_ himself move. He forced himself up onto his feet, he charged at the ropes and as Harper tried to stand he slammed the other man's head down to the mat. His back cried out with every single step. But he had to do this, he had to win.

He could do it – Roman believed in him. Paige believed in him. Dean...Dean was there when he needed him most. His brothers, his girl, his family – this was their title too. He couldn't just give up. He gripped onto the ropes with one hand, Harper struggled to get up once again, Wyatt down on the canvas. If he timed it right...

Seth ran. He jumped, foot on top of Harper's neck, shot straight down. Head to head the Wyatt family knocked out and knocked sideways with a horrendous crack. He saw blood but didn't know who it belonged to. Where was the ref? Had there been a ref? Had he been hiding the whole time? There – he was up on the stage with Stephanie. She was trying to hold him back, but he pulled his shirt free of her grip and sprinted down to the ring, slid on in and slammed his hand down on the canvas as Seth crawled over Wyatt's prone body.

'One...two...t-,'

The bastard raised a shoulder and Seth couldn't believe it.

'Remember Seth – in situations where its life or death and all you have around are toys, think to yourself, what would Ambrose do?'

The screen cut out and that stupid mug was off air. Seth peered around – _what would Ambrose do_? He slid out of the ring and heaved up the skirt, quickly, quickly he dragged on out something familiar. Chairs had a heavy impact on everything they hit. He shook out a breath. Eyes on the ring he rolled back in. As he moved to one knee, Wyatt came forward and with all his might, Seth swung. It smacked against the other man's arm. A grunt told him Harper was near up too – he turned and the chair crashed into the giant's spine. Seth was on his feet, stood over the two men, eyes flicked left and right to see who would try and recover first – Harper. His chair was his sword and he cracked the other man right in the back – revenge for his own spine. He hit it again, forced him to the ropes where he pushed the chair into the man's hands. Confused Harper clung on until Seth drop kicked him in the chest, sent him out onto the floor.

Seth was on his knees when Wyatt seized him. He dragged him to the centre of that ring, held him, ready to give the Sister Abigail. No. Not this time. The kiss was planted and his body swung, but Seth carried his weight over, feet hit the canvas before his head did. He caught his footing and snapped a sharp kick into Wyatt's bearded face. Thrown, Wyatt staggered backward. Seth roared and ran. One foot hit the first rope, then the next – he twisted his body in the air, caught hold of Wyatt's neck and brought him down to the canvas with a smack. Harper was still on the floor – or so he thought. The ladder slammed into his head and Seth slumped forward.

Ouch.

Everything swam and he felt a welt crack on his forehead. The blood that wet his cheek was met with the red from above and he licked at it. Coppery. He'd tasted blood before. He was not afraid of it. The ladder was thrown over his back as the red rolled into his eyes. He swiped at it with his gloved hand, rolled under the metal and shoved it away. Harper's full weight hit him. He could have sworn his heart stopped a second. The massive body held him down.

'One – two -,'

Fuck that.

He wasn't losing the belt to Harper's sweaty pits.

His arm jerked up and in the process biffed the side of the man's head. Harper didn't seem to feel it. Instead, he grabbed a hold of Seth's wrist, then his throat, he vaulted him up from the floor, held him over his head. It was a long way down to the floor and he felt every second of it. His hip hit the black mat first and pain exploded. He would have cried out if his throat weren't so dry. He wiped at the blood again. It wouldn't stop and he could barely see through it. He found the barrier and dragged himself back up again.

'Come on!' Seth roared. He knew Harper, what he would do – and dodged out of the way the second the hairy bastard flew through the ropes. He heard the delicious knock as he smacked his head on the barrier and felt very pleased with himself. Seth spat blood on the floor. He could do this – he could fucking do this. He was Seth Rollins – the Champion. He was the man. He was the broken, bleeding man, but fuck it, he was still the man. He staggered, followed the sounds of the cheers and the screams of the audience to the steps – clambering up into the ring felt beyond him. He urged himself up each one to the ring. The top step of the ladder smashed into his jaw. He would have fallen if not for the fingers locked around the ring rope. He swung, near let go but somehow came to rest on the ring apron. He spat – more blood, something loose – a tooth? He heard Wyatt come at him again, managed to move aside in time. He reached out, caught a hold of the ladder and jerked it into the side of the other man's head. Wyatt let go. Seth did too.

He hauled himself over the ropes, caught Wyatt by the waist and brought him down in a sunset flip. He held him there, urged the ref over –

'One – two – thr-,'

Wyatt twisted his body and kicked out.

Where was that ladder?

Seth somehow managed to snap it up from the floor. It slipped in his hands, red stained the metal but he turned it in place. Wyatt tried to climb to his feet – this was it. The last chance. Seth shuffled back as Wyatt held onto the rungs, tried to push himself up. Seth leapt, foot on the other man's neck and pushed down. The _Eater of Worlds_, ate the ladder. He recoiled, near bounced off of it. Seth was on him in seconds. He held him down with all his strong. The ref hit the canvas –

'One, two, three!'


	27. Who Will Fall?

**((Hello everyone! So sorry about the delay, but posting updates these days will be sporadic at best. I shall do whatever I can with the spare time I have, and new chapters will be posted as often as I can! I hope this was worth waiting for!))**

Three, only three had gone and what could he do next? Who could he possibly face now? He had nothing left in the tank, who could he fight and win? It seemed impossible, and whilst he'd normally be in the business of proving what a genius he was, being smart and staying alive could quite possibly be two very different horns on a goat. The blood was slick on his face, and he could barely look up at the ramp. He felt as Wyatt was dragged free from underneath him by his faithful Harper. He couldn't hear Roman's support anymore, couldn't feel that comforting hand, those arms pulling him up to his feet. Could he even stand?

Apparently they wouldn't give him time to find out. Everything hurt. The kind which burrowed into bones and split them open, the kind of pain which could blind you, render every limb useless. He had little of anything left, and as he managed to just about raise his head from the floor, to look, bleary eyed toward the ramp, to the stage where it was suspiciously dark, gut-wrenchingly quiet. Even the crowd were silent with anticipation. The blood in his mouth tasted like copper and it made his teeth sing. His breathing, heavy and guttural was the loudest thing in the whole arena.

They wanted him afraid. They wanted him to wait; a rabbit in the headlights.

'_It's time to play the game..._'

No. No. Shit. Fuck. There was nowhere to run and the lights flashed across his face, the sounds made the earth move as the guitar and the bass and everything and all existence moulded into one headache. A thick set migraine like someone was breaking through his skull...with a sledgehammer. He didn't need to be able to see, to know that the weapon was grasped firmly in the thick set hands of the returning Triple H. A week wouldn't have been enough time for the man to recover from what Seth did to him. It wouldn't – he would still be injured, still be weak. But they'd been smart, they'd brought him on last, after Seth had been beaten down, had been worn out, and wouldn't have any strength left, to fight back. He pressed his hands against the mat and forced himself onto his knees. The crowd were stunned, unsure how to respond, some of them screamed, some of them were dumbstruck, but those who were together enough, said something else entirely.

'_Holy shit! Holy shit!_'

If only God were listening right now eh? Who's side would he be on? The underdog? The tyrant? Where was Roman? He'd disappeared the instant the match with the Wyatt's started and now...now he was so completely alone, in a room with tens of thousands of people. He saw the body come closer down that ramp, slowly, savouring the moment of what would be Triple H's revenge. Maybe...all of this had been a mistake. A reckless mistake by a man blinded by the idea of revolution, of bringing about the change so desperately needed in the WWE. And now, the title was slipping from his grasp with every step that the Game took. He could imagine Stephanie on that stage now, gleeful of what was coming, so pleased with herself for not revealing the secret until this big moment.

A grunt of effort and he dragged himself to the ropes, he pulled up his broken body and clung on for dear life, all the while, never letting the man with the big stick with the metal hammerhead out of his sights; blurry as they were. Seth pulled off one of his gloves. He used it to wipe as much of the blood from his face as he could, before he threw it to the red splattered canvas. What sort of game would this be? No DQ? A street fight?

'This is an I Quit match Rollins!' Stephanie spat into the mic with so much venom he was surprised it didn't melt in her hand.

An I Quit match, perfectly designed so that if he didn't say those words, the Game could do whatever he wanted to him, until he was unconscious, until he was dead. He didn't doubt that Triple H was capable of murder, but somehow he didn't think he would want to compromise himself in that way. Instead, he'd beat the ever living shit out of him. The WWE was its own pocket universe where anything could happen, but death...that was something that broke through the bubble and brought in the real world. In any case, even in the state he was...Seth had no intention of dying in that ring.

And then – Triple H was on the apron. The sledgehammer was against his shoulder as he climbed on in. No water vapour, nothing but business.

The King entered the ring.

But Seth would not bow.

The bell rang and with a possessed scream, he let go of the ropes and charged. Triple H dropped the hammer, hands grasped at Seth's back as they were both driven hard against the ropes. Seth ignored the barrage of blows to his back, and brought up a knee, it hit against the thigh rather than the groin, and he twisted like an eel in Triple H's grasp and freed himself. He ran, rebounded off the ropes and sprinted toward his enemy. With all the force he could gather, he tackled him through the ropes, over the apron and down, down onto that hard floor. Seth landed lucky, on top of the bulk of flesh and muscle. He stumbled back against the ring steps, found himself sat for a second, trying to catch his breath, his eyes on the fallen man. He couldn't let up, he couldn't stop, if he did, there would be an opening, and the Game would exploit it, and this outburst of offence would not last. His breathing was haggard as he stood, legs shaking, turned, and with all his strength, detached the ring steps. They felt too heavy, as he turned with them in his arms, and stepped toward the Game.

But he'd been too long. Triple H was ready for him.

He'd grabbed something from under the ring. Something metal and hard, and it slammed into the ring steps which jutted from Seth's chest. The wind knocked out of him, he fell, hard, his head slammed back onto the remaining steps. The metal clattered from his hands to the floor, and he saw with a hazy mind as the figure of the Game stood over him; in hand, a chair. Seth felt as it hit his ribs, end first. He choked. Felt the snap as his ribcage jutted, strained and snapped. The chair came down again and again. Somehow, before it felt once more, he got up a leg, and hit out as hard as he could. It reached the Game's abdomen, forced him back to the barricade. Not a lot of time, but just enough, and Seth somehow scrambled back into the ring, his hand falling on something wooden. A handle.

Triple H came in after him and brought that chair down – straight onto the hammerhead of his own weapon. In his two hands, Seth barely could keep it in the air, but it saved him another blow. The rage which stormed inside his opponent's eyes, it reddened his face, made him sweat. Triple H made to bring down that chair again, but once more Seth blocked it. From his position, he couldn't find the momentum to swing the blasted sledgehammer, but as long as it could stop potential chair shots to the head he would keep throwing it in the way.

A pause in the Game's torrential flow of chair shots, out of breath? Hurting from old injuries? Seth didn't care and heaved himself upward and swung with that hammer. It smashed into the chair and knocked it out of Triple H's hands. No weapon, no shield for the King. And as long as Seth was breathing, no crown for him either.

But Seth was tired. So fucking tired. He was a fit guy, but the past few weeks were crashing down on him, and the past hour had done more than break him. He could barely see, barely breathe, hardly stand and he couldn't lose this. He couldn't...he just couldn't. But he knew, as he swung that hammer, and it was caught by the Game, that this was a fight that would murder him. But he didn't let go, he tried to jerk the weapon back, but was dragged forward, straight into the elbow of the Game. He staggered back, found ropes too close, became tangled. Just as that sledgehammer would have hit his head in, he found the canvas. Out, he had to get out again, and slid down to the floor. The commentators were behind him and he couldn't heal them properly, every sense dulled down to near nothingness. But he felt their presence, and desperately grabbed at one of the monitors from the table and swung wildly as the Game came after him.

It must have hit him hard because he tumbled to the floor. Shocked, confused, Seth near threw himself at the ref –

'Ask him! Ask him dammit!'

The poor guy didn't deserve such behaviour, but brought his microphone down to the lips of the fallen King.

'Do you quit Triple H?'

It was met with a shove and the other man staggered up to his feet. But before he could grab at that sledgehammer again, Seth dove round him to grab it, and darted to the other side of the ring, lifted the skirt and chucked the weapon deep underneath. If he wanted that now, he'd have to hunt in the dark for it. When he appeared again, Triple H was after him. Seth, too tired for the shit he was going through, nimbly managed to swing himself into the ring again. Hey look – a chair! The one dropped from earlier. It was dented to hell, but it would still hurt and he gripped a hold of a leg and turned and swung and released. The _sound_ as it hit – well he wasn't sure what it hit, but it seemed painful from the growl that escaped the Game.

Everything from that moment, felt like a blur.

One agonizing, non-stop blur.

Chair shots, punches, kicks, blows to every single part of his body, as if Triple H were possessed by some demon. Vision deteriorating, hearing blotting, every now and again he was aware of the dull presence of a microphone being shoved in his face, by the ref, by the Game, eventually even by Stephanie as he was asked endlessly if he quite. When _she _asked, in that banshee voice of hers, he opened his mouth and spat. It must have hit her in the face because seconds later he felt the point of her high heel puncture his thigh as she kicked him with all the strength she had. Minutes felt like hours. The crowd were near silent as they watched the carnage. He could hear people – some women, some men, crying from the front row, calling out to him to just quite. To just stay down.

'_You'll always be a champion to me_.' He knew that one voice, but he couldn't see who it belonged to. He lay on the canvas, face swollen, bloody, bleeding, bones battered, skin bruised, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't take anymore. But he still, wouldn't quit.

Then, a raised roar of terror from the crowd as something, hundreds of something, bounced near Seth's head, shiny, sharp – thumbtacks. Panic set in. A hand grabbed his hair, fingers knotted and he was dragged to the left, face mere inches from being stabbed, eyes too close to being blind for good.

'Quit Rollins!' Triple H roared, his knee between Seth's shoulder blades, his free hand stuffed the microphone next to his mouth. But he couldn't. Wouldn't as the tacks came closer...

The ring bell rang.

'_And your winner, and NEW World Heavyweight Champion – Triple H!_'

What?

No.

No.

He didn't quit. What? What was happening?

He felt the pressure disappear, moved himself away from the danger. He could see the hazy imagine as the Game stood triumphant over him, as his wife wrapped Seth's beloved title around Triple H's thick waist. Confusion mounted, and then, he saw it. The white towel curled up on the canvas was so non offensive, but already he was sucking up Seth's spilled blood. And there at the ring ropes, hood drawn over head, he didn't have to see the face to know.

Paige had thrown in the towel.

She clambered into the ring, she took him in her arms, she kissed his face and tried to talk but he couldn't hear a thing she said. He felt numb. Even as Roman joined them, and they tried to heave him up, drag him out of the ring. Mat turned to ramp turned to stage, and as they reached it, paramedics, medics, all of them, rushed out to meet him, and he collapsed to the floor.

And all the while, the only thing he could hear as they strapped him to the body board, was '_Thank you Rollins, thank you Rollins, thank you Rollins.'_

He closed his eyes.


	28. A Breath of Life

**((So sorry about the delay between postings guys! Work has been phenomenally busy, but I hope that you enjoy this newest post. As always, thank you for your continued love and dedication to Seth's story! Please let me know what you think!))**

_Jelly beans – he could taste them, each flavour moving across his tongue as they were pressed to his lips, and he sucked them into his mouth, savoring each one and chewing slowly before swallowing them down and waiting for the next to come. He could feel the summer sun beaming down on his face, warming the skin, and making colours dance behind his closed eyelids. Ears could hear the nearby traffic as it cruised by. Nose could smell the honeysuckle which grew wild near the banks of the Mississippi river as it lulled nearby. His beloved city would flood frequently because of those muddy waters, but he was never afraid of that great river. He'd learned to swim so very young. When he was a child, he'd always thought that the worst way to die was to drown. He'd heard stories of people disappearing into the river and never crawling out again, carried away by the rains or by things lurking beneath the surface. He'd had nightmares for years, waking up in the middle of the night, sweats, tears, cold and breathless. But then he realized something, when he was a teenager, that there was no point, being scared. Fear stalled him. _

_There were much worse ways to die, than to drown. _

_So instead of being afraid of the dark which swallowed him, he floated, aimless through the black. Black, pitch black, no light no...nothing. Save for his body, aching, broken, pieces of him would fragment off before reappearing, as if his brain were flickering in and out of existence. Maybe he'd died and not realized it, but that just seemed foolish. For him to have such cognitive thought showed he was still alive. He could visit his memories all he pleased, and he knew he would just review old mistakes, evaluate and think about how he could have done things differently. Meeting his brothers, first as their rival back in their old Florida days, seeing Paige for the first time, winning belts, breaking hearts, breaking bones and backs...all of it was in the past and it had made him who he was – this floating mass, caught in the back of his own brain._

_He couldn't feel anything, indeed, it was his own reasoning which deduced he was still breathing. _

_Paige ...what was happening to his black angel whilst he was like this? Was Roman still shell-shocked, Dean still crippled? How long had he been stuck in the void? Too many questions. Days and weeks, months and years could have passed and he wouldn't have known the difference. Experiments and evaluations had been made on comatose patients to monitor their brain activity, maybe he would be the next. Did they have him hooked up to machines in a hospital room? Were they warning his loved ones that eventually it might be best to pull the plug and to finally let him drown? _

_Or was he simply sleeping? Caught up in an endless dream which he could wake up from should he try hard enough; but he was simply exhausted. _

_There was no day or night, just the abyss. Funny, he'd always presumed there was more to his mind than just this mundane blackness. Where were all his fantastic ideas? All the sparked up thoughts? Where were his vibrant memories and witty statements? Maybe they were in some kind of warehouse to which he didn't have a key. Or maybe he really _was_ dead and he was just kidding himself that he had some kind of hope left. Death – wouldn't that through a spanner in the works? But he couldn't leave his girl behind. He had so many dreams for them to share. Perhaps he'd shoved them onto the back burner because some things seemed more important than their relationship. The deception and the back-stabbing and the constant, constant need to be on full alert had burned his candle down to a miserable pile of wax, and the only reason he still burned, was because of his love for his girl and his brothers. Paige...how long had they been pulling each other's hair out by the roots now? How long had she been kicking his ass whilst he slapped hers? Years, four years, if he remembered right. He could have been wrong, for his genius, he had never been all that great with numbers. But he remembered the first time he'd ever seen her, as he chilled at ring side, playing some tunes on his laptop, and she just strolled over, all black lace and porcelain skin, to advise him, wordless, for his oncoming match. Then, she walked away, her own laptop in hand, and left him confused, mesmerized by her ass and wondering who the hell she was. FCW had brought them all together. When he'd eventually found out her name, he knew he had to do something. She couldn't just walk into his life like she had, and be allowed to come and go as she pleased. He was overcome by an insatiable need for her to be by his side. _

_In the light of it all, ironic, in this darkness, if he'd not met her, maybe, none of this would have happened. He'd have been spared so much pain, but so much pleasure too. Perhaps he was a masochist. That would explain a lot. A glutton for punishment, maybe he even deserved it for all he'd put the three of them through over the years. That must have been it. He'd broken all their hearts when he'd turned on them. _

_He'd not told them before it. But that night, when his brothers were being patched up, he made sure that they received the truth. An envelope with a picture inside of the four of them all together, laughing, having fun, with the words 'don't panic' written on the back. They'd understood, and kept up with the charade. Even when he'd shoved Dean's head into those cinder blocks, his brother had trusted him. Paige had trusted him when he told her he couldn't see her for that whole time he was within the lion's den. It had been the worst, unable to touch her, talk to her. Just before the whole world had collapsed and Seth Rollins was now the ultimate heel, the company man who was the Authority's bitch, he'd taken her for a drive through his beloved Davenport. They'd sat on the banks of the river, and she'd fed him jelly beans under the afternoon sun. She knew, without being told, that something was going to happen, something awful, something that would test them so completely, and so she kissed him and held him close as they watched the insects float above the water. _

'_I think you're the one my mum warned me about, Seth Rollins. She told me that at some point in every woman's life, a man comes along and ruins her so completely, she can't help but love him.'_

_Saraya Knight was a wise woman and one Seth rightly feared. He'd never met her, but the stories he'd heard of Paige's mother, father and siblings were enough to make him unsure of he would be ever ready to meet the Knight clan. But he knew, he wanted, no, needed her to be something other than the wrestling prodigy from that crazy family. There weren't enough Rollins in the world, and he knew, she'd make an excellent one._

* * *

'No, no, I think you'd find that Cthulhu would win.'

'There's no fuckin' way. Charizard would kick his ass bitch and you know it.'

'I'm with Dean on this. Charizard has fire.'

'Ooo, scary. You guys have no idea what you're talking about. Not only is Cthulhu an elder deity, he's part dragon, part human and part octopi. I think you'll find that any creature that is part cephalopod has a significant chance of opening a major can of whoop ass on your orange lizard.'

'That sounds like an STD.'

'So fuckin' childish Dean.'

'Aw baby, you wound me. And here I was, thinking we were just starting our voice of love, romance, and bonin' each other's fuckin' brains out.'

'In your dreams _baby_. You'd have to be disinfected before I even consider brushin' past you.'

'So what about all those hugs you've given ol' Dean over the years?'

'Been holding my breath and scrubbing myself with bleach afterward.'

'Rome...Paigey's being mean to me.'

'Paige, be nice to your brother.'

'He started it!'

'Well I'm ending it. No wonder Seth's taking a nap. So he doesn't have to listen to you guys.'

'Some nap. Wish I could nap this long.'

'Maybe he's having pleasant dreams about big tittied women and unicorns.'

'If he's not dreaming about a naked me riding that unicorn then I'm beating him back to unconsciousness.'

'Ridin' that unicorn eh? Kinky bitch.'

'Girl's gotta keep herself satisfied.'

'Aw look, Rome's gone all red. She embarrassed ya brother?'

'It's hot in here.'

'Uh huh.'

'Hey look, pizza's here.'

'See? See how he uses the promise of deliciousness to try and distract from the fact that e' can't cope with the idea of a lady gettin' off on a unihorn.'

'Filth.'

'Are you allowed to order pizza to hospitals?'

'Dunno. Done it anyway. Sure Lucia won't care.'

'There he goes. Look how manly he is Paige.'

'So very manly.'

_Do you guys ever shut up?_

'Do you think when God decided what manly men should look like, he took the body of an Olympian and then stuck a woman's head on top? Then thought it needed stronger eyebrows?'

'Sounds about right.'

Perhaps it was because he'd had enough of their chat. Maybe it was because he'd slept long enough, but when his eyes did flicker open, the world was a groggy mess, as if he'd woken up drunk. His head throbbed, like a tonne of bricks had been dropped onto his skull. He couldn't move, like his limbs had been dunked in cement. He tried to shift his body but it didn't listen, so he promptly gave up. He could just about make out the casual haze of two figures somewhere in front of him. One dressed in black, the other dressed in...black. Dammit. They were sat down, or seemed to be, seeing how they blurred into blue. It felt like the worst hang over ever.

'I think that manliness is a farce.'

'You think humans are a farce.'

'That's because I knew we're all secretly unicorns in human suits.'

'I'm not.'

'That's because you, Dean, don't believe in magic. We call you guys 'scum.''

'Fuckin' rude.'

'Tis the sad truth Deanie. Maybe one day we'll accept you as a pet.'

'Have to de-flea him,' Seth muttered. His own voice sounded alien to him. But it got their attention. The two blurs turned to look at him, and within a sweet instant, the smaller of the two was at his bed side and grabbed his face in soft hands, and planted the kiss of life on his dry lips. Unfortunately, it seemed his vision really was off, and that it was Dean sucking his face.

'Get off him!'

Eventually his brother did, when Paige seemingly punched him in the gut, and took over kissing duty. Hers didn't last nearly as long as Dean's smooch did, but she tasted far better, and served to get the weirdness from his swollen tongue.

'Hey baby.'

'Cthulhu would...kick Charizard's ass.'

'Called it!' Paige laughed and ran her fingers through his stringy hair. 'Gonna have to sort you all out. You've lost your skunk chunk.' But he could just about make out her smile, the adoration in her eyes as, with sweet relief, she tenderly kissed his oddly numb forehead. 'As soon as they let you out, I'm going to make you feel like a _king_.'

'Do I get a crown?'

'Maybe.'

'A chariot?'

'Well...'

It was only when his eyes really fell into focus did he realize just why he couldn't move. Plaster encased one leg, and both wrists.

'What happened to me?'

'You challenged Charizard.'

'Shut up Dean.' Paige scowled at him, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'You've been operated on Seth. You were fighting with a broken wrist, femur and dislocated your shoulder, broke three bones in your right hand, snapped several ribs, fractured your skull...'

'How?'

'You don't remember the fights?'

'Vaguely.'

'You had the crap supremely beaten out of you sweetheart. They thought you might lose your vision, but...you can see me right?'

'I see blurs.'

'Well that's better than looking at Dean anyway.' She turned to the stand next to the bed and plucked something from it, before she pushed it onto his face. His glasses. 'Better?'

Everything was in sharp focus and it made him squint, but he nodded and looked over himself in shock.

'How long have I been here?'

'About a month,'

'I've been out for a month?'

'Once we got you off stage, you had a seizure Seth.'

'I did?'

'I thought you were going to die.'

'Well I'm glad to have disappointed you.' He tested his body a little, but it was ignoring him. 'What's been happening in the warzone?'

'Things. Stuff. We haven't been back.'

Seth's eyes widened. 'You've been here this whole time?'

Dean was there now, and walking, all be it with a limp and the use of one crutch still. But he was doing better than he had been when he last saw him. 'Haven't left yer side brother.' He seemed a lot thinner than when he last saw him, his skin shallower, like he hadn't seen a whole lot of day light, but he seemed as happy as Paige did to see him. 'Would love to use this crutch to beat the ever-loving shit outta the Game but you're more important than that. So we're taken some time off, all of us.'

'We've been fired.'

'...Oh.' Seth looked down, but Paige forced his chin up.

'Its fine Seth, really it is. We can concentrate on all of us getting better, becoming better. It might take some time, but when we're stronger, we can go back there, and we'll tear them all apart. It will be magnificent. It really well, we'll burn them to the ground and kick their ashes so hard they'll become stars in the sky.'

'So being fired doesn't necessarily mean don't destroy the Authority?'

Dean snorted. 'Hell no, brother,'

At that moment, the door to the room slid open, and there, in all his manly, woman haired magnificence, was Roman, hardly visibly behind the stack of what looked to be around ten pizzas. The smell was incredible, and it was only then that Seth realized how hungry he was. He noted the drips in his arm, feeding him nutrients, keeping him alive. But that wasn't enough, now he wanted carbs. Roman, for a moment didn't seem to notice Seth was awake, but when he did, a smile blossomed on that solemn face.

'Hey,'

'Hey.'

He moved closed and placed the pizzas down on the side table, before crossing his arms and looking down at Seth. 'You look shit mate.'

'You look...pretty.'

'Why thank you.'

No kisses from Roman, but they weren't needed, the quiet understanding between the two of them was more than enough. 'How's your head?'

'Great. No more problems. Got to wear these now -,' he poked at the skinny pair of spectacles Seth hadn't even noticed he was wearing. 'Otherwise I go a bit cross eyed, but my head seems to be harder than the average persons. Been told to never wrestle again, but it looks like with some recovery, you might be able to, Dean too.'

'Never wrestle again?'

Roman shrugged slowly, 'The Game might have ended me, Seth. But he hasn't ended the Shield. I'm still with you in this.'

'And you're ok with that?'

'Fuck no. I'm angry, I'm pissed off, and he will pay for what he's done to me. But, my revenge can wait. Until then, we need to focus on getting you, Dean and Paige functioning again.'

'What happened to you?' Seth looked toward his love, and she didn't quite want to meet his gaze, but bit her lip and sighed.

'After you were taken off stage, Steph had the bell rung for a match against me. I didn't even fight her, just chucked the belt at her. Wasn't worth anything. I'm not hurt physically, but my pride's a bit damaged.'

Dean seemed to have slipped out of the conversation and was tucking into pizza. He had the right idea, and soon, it was passed out among them. Paige fed him small bites and it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. He could have cried. But already, in his hospital bed, in plaster and bandage and wadding and cast, his brain, tired from doing nothing, was already beginning to spark once again. It might be some time before he could return to the WWE, but he had time, and he had patience. He had pizza and he had this small fucked up family. For now, for that moment, he was happy he was alive.


	29. Things Lost In The Fog

**((I know it's been absolutely forever since I've posted an update. Please don't hate me. Unfortunately I've been back into hospital, and due to several problems, I've struggled to get internet. Now that I have, hopefully I'll be able to give you more of Seth's story. This chapter is very personal to me, as whilst my problems are different to his, our struggle is the same. I hope that you enjoy it, please let me know if you do!))**

* * *

After a further two months in hospital, Seth was taken to the physio department. A large room, he recognized balance balls, some gym equipment, benches, beds, short stair cases, even a kitchenette. The wheelchair he sat in had sunk to fit his ass and he was damned sure he'd piled on the pounds. Behind him stood Brian, the physiotherapy porter; stocky with silver hair, the Scotsman had been threatening to come for Seth for days. Now the moment had come to begin the first steps into returning to the company that had fucked him up so royally. Paige had rarely left his bedside, his brothers too had remained as best they could, but each with their own physical problems, had to spend time sorting them out as well. But today, his dark lady had made her apologies and excuses to have a day to herself. He understood, God he did. He was grateful for the constant company that she gave him, never once complaining. The hours she'd sat reading to him because he couldn't even hold a book, let alone turn the pages. Together, they'd attacked four of the Harry Potter series, each providing voices accordingly, with her holding the book up to his glasses so that he could attempt the English accent and fail miserably.

'Alrigh' Rollins, 'ere we are,' Glaswegian to the very core, Seth only genuinely understood half of what Brian said at times. He'd attempted mimicking the man's accent for when he tried Hagrid's voice but found it rather difficult. It seemed he didn't have a future as an impersonator. Shame, that. 'The lady in charge of you will be Daisy, now be nice cos' she won't be.' Brian chuckled as he put the brakes on Seth's chair so that escape was impossible. 'Be back in a tick,'

He gripped a hold of the folder that had been perched on Seth's lap and off he went to a small office area, leaving the wrestler twiddling thumbs. His right hand looked more like a snowman's than a human's, fingers bound together and broken wrist encased in thick plaster. Everything itched. His leg itched inside the bright pink cast that Dean had specially chosen for him, his shoulder was sore, head ached and ribs complained. All the cosmetic damage had been repaired well, the gashes to his face had been stitched up, sorted and now he wore a heavy scar cut across his forehead. It made his brow dip a little over one eye, but at least his vision hadn't been damaged anymore than it already was. He'd even been told that he'd be supplied with replacement teeth for the ones he'd lost. The doctor he'd been assigned, a Mr. Northman, had come in to talk to him not long after he'd woken up for the first time. He'd explained how lucky he was that he was alive. He couldn't argue with that.

Ahead of him, Brian emerged from the office with a young woman in tow. She looked a little older than Paige, with curly red hair and a very prominent baby bump. Her eyes seemed stern even though she smiled when she approached him. She held a hand out. 'Hello Seth, my name is Daisy; I'll be your main physiotherapist for the next few weeks. I hope you're ready. Learning to walk again with the kind of damage you've sustained will be difficult, but I'm sure that you'll conquer it.'

Almost shyly, he took her hand and shook it. 'How long do we have until...?' he asked and very pointedly nodded to bump.

She chuckled at that, removed her hand from his and rubbed her stomach, 'Three weeks, so I hope you're up for the challenge, I want you fighting fit before little one comes along.'

Seth nodded, 'I do like a challenge.'

'Excellent. Shall we begin then?' she nodded to Brian, who obediently wheeled Seth to the end of a pair of parallel bars. They were around two metres long and he'd never been so intimidated by two pieces of metal. 'Don't worry too much about these for now; what we're going to attempt today is simply standing. I know it'll be more difficult because of your fingers and ribs, but we need to start trying to get you mobile.' She walked around into the bars and squatted down, as if sat in a chair. 'All I need you to do, is to brace your hands on the bars, or chair arms, whichever you find more comfortable, and when you've got a good grip, make sure your feet are flat, and push yourself up.' She did so, using the bars to pull herself into a standing position. Seth was pretty sure she was the only eight month pregnant woman he'd ever seen do such a perfect squat. Clearly she would expect high things of him. He swallowed a little, and then, as she said, slowly he placed his hands on the arms of the wheelchair. Brian behind him made sure the chair was steady. The cast around his leg was hardly attractive, but at least his foot had only been bruised, not broken. Both feet braced against the floor, and with a deep breath, he started to push himself up. Pain exploded in his ribs, his face whitened, but he somehow managed to heave himself up. Hands jumped to the bars to stop him falling. 'Very good!'

Her smile was actually dazzling and for half a second he found himself grinning back at her before the pain became too much on his damaged leg. It buckled, his grip slipped and he fell down – straight into the chair. 'Well caught Bri,' he complimented the Scotsman and blew his long hair out of his eyes. It had a mind of its own and was in severe need of a cut.

'Aye well ya need to give us some warnin' next time,' but Brian cackled all the same and helped him up from his slump. 'Abou' gave me a heart attack kid,'

'Sorry about that.' Seth bit the inside of his mouth. This was going to be far more difficult than he'd originally thought. Daisy's face had creased in worry, but realizing he was alright, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. 'Hope I didn't scare you and Bubba there,'

'Just a bit,' she admitted, 'I should be used to surprises by now but normally I would leap into action to catch you...kind of unable to do that right now,' she almost looked annoyed with herself, but after a moment, and another rub of her stomach, she nodded to herself and looked back to Seth. 'Are you alright? Would you be happy to try again?'

* * *

'Bro! Bro! Bro!'

Dean practically leapt at him like a rabid Chihuahua hyena mix. He'd lost weight in the time since he'd been benched with that particular bad leg. His new cast was coloured in to look like a candy cane and his hair was near down to his chin from where he'd had less reasons to pull it out. He looked a complete mess and his general lack of personal hygiene often caused various hospital staff to try and bar him from entering Seth's room. Lucia however was able to calm the situation each and every time when he demanded entry and swung and growled at anyone who tried to stop him. The nurse had an incredible effect on Dean, like a mother to a child, she was able to restore sense to him, quell the animal and sometimes, she even goaded him into a wet room to shower. Today was not one of those days. It was only Brian's intervention that spared him Dean's overzealous welcome. With the porter's help, Seth found himself sat on the bed once again. Exhausted, every part of him hurt, and whilst he was more than glad to see Dean, the physical nature of Dean's hello was rather unwelcome.

'Dean dude, calm down,' he laughed and as Dean near bounced in the chair next to him, he found himself reaching out to put a hand on the other man's head. Almost as soon as he did, Dean's enthusiasm mellowed, his eyes closed and he enjoyed the feeling as Seth rubbed his head. He'd learned this one from Roman, who over the years had subdued a lot of Dean's tantrums in this manner. It seemed, through his long years of abuse and loneliness, the simple act of touching Dean's head with kindness was very soothing to him. The cut down the back of his head, like Seth's forehead, had healed well, though had taken longer than it should have because Dean insisted on playing with it. The leg though was still a complaint. The wooden crutches were laid against the wall. 'You doing alright today?'

'Yeah!' he near shouted it before a glare from Brian brought a deep growl from the back of his throat. Dean had proved very territorial over Seth, disallowing anyone he didn't approve of from being too near. As soon as the porter had left though, his daft grin returned. 'Did you hear, did you hear?'

'Hear what?'

'About Paige!'

'What about her?'

Dean's eyes widened and he bit his lips. 'Oh bro it's too sweet. You're gonna love it,' he couldn't contain himself and sat on his hands to try and stop himself waving them about. 'I'll let her tell you. Cos I wouldn't do it justice.'

'Do what?' Seth was beginning to get confused. 'Dean, bro, please make some sense.'

'Oh fine you dragged it out of me!' his hands released, he gripped a hold of Seth's broken arm and ignored the wince and hiss of pain. 'She's been re-hired!'

A terrible silence fell over the room, and Seth felt very cold inside. 'What?'

'By Mr. Vinnie Mac himself.' Dean saluted as he said it. 'She got the call last night. Surprised that she didn't tell ya! They've moved up the four horsewomen from NXT, and apparently one of their conditions for moving up to main roster was that Paige was brought back. The Mac caved Seth. Seems like things have been going downhill in our absence don't you think?' he seemed giddy with excitement but Seth just felt numb. His girl had kept this a secret from him. She didn't want him to know. Was she scared he might try and stop her? Would he try to? He honestly didn't know. He had faith in her, believed in her, knew how strong she was...and knew that the McMachon family wouldn't take her back so willingly without having something tucked up their expensive sleeves. 'Our girl is going back for her belt Seth. I know it.'

Seth struggled up in his bed. 'She can't Dean,'

His brother blinked, 'Why?'

'The Game and Stephanie will hound her every second she's there, she'll get hurt. I don't want her to end up like this.' He looked at his broken body in disgust. 'She can handle herself against Stephanie, I know that. Hell, she can give any of the girls a run for their money, but if the Game gets involved it's a whole different boardgame.'

'She won't be on her own. Dolph, the ladies...they're all behind her Seth. Daniel Bryan even mentioned us in a promo earlier in the week. The people miss the Shield, the locker room are being hit from all sides. So many of them are ready to cut the brakes on those posh limos that I think we could get a revolution going! All of us together! We don't need no permission!'

'I can't walk Dean,' Seth couldn't even look at him. Shamed eyes glanced at each part of him that was held together with plaster and prayers. 'Roman can't wrestle, you're still a cripple. We can't start anything like this. We're nothing until we're better. We're obsolete.'

Dean's jaw slackened and he stared at Seth with disbelief. 'You're kiddin' right? Right? Ya can't be serious Seth. After everythin' the Authority have done to us, you're just gonna lie there in your bed and watch as they keep on bullin' everyone? Who gives a shit if ya can't walk! One of our presi-dudes couldn't! You know – the hot guy with the polio.' He reached automatically to his grown out hair, fingers twisted and tugged on pieces in frustration. 'Seth...yer our man. We gotta do somethin'.'

'We can't Dean! We can't do anything! We're fucking invalids! We, us me, you – we're broken. We're fucking nothing. I can't even stand straight and you! Look at yourself Dean! You can't even look after yourself properly, let alone start a revolution!'

He hadn't meant to raise his voice. Not to Dean.

Almost the second he didn't, he saw something glisten in his brother's eyes. Dean turned away from him. He grabbed his crutches and came to a shaky stand. He wobbled his way to the door, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. 'I always thought we could do anythin', as long as we was together.' he swallowed and hobbled out.

'Dean wait -,'

But he was gone. On the chair where he'd sat was something, an envelope. Slowly, Seth reached over, gripped it and held it. He tore it open. Out fell a crudely made card, crayon scrawled on the front read :

_FOR SETH!_

His hands shook as he opened it. Dean's writing was barely legible, but soon Seth's eyes adjusted to the scribble inside.

_When I was a kid I wanted two things: to wrestle and to be part of a family. Through one I got the other. Thanks for making me Dean. I like me now. Get better big brother._

Seth felt the tears before they fell. He closed the card. He put it back in the envelope. He put it on the chair. He screamed. The pain was nothing, nothing compared to the disappointment in Dean's face. The nurses heard him, they came to comfort him and he roared at them, tried to hit them away. He didn't want company. He didn't want humans. He barely counted as one anymore. And when the tears finally eased, he looked at the clock on the wall. Swallowing his pride, he buzzed for a nurse. Lucia was the only one who would come to him. She looked weary, her eyes tired, her hair tied up in that knot. She took one look at his raw eyes, his exhausted face and came to his bedside. She took his hand, didn't ask a single question, she just waited, waited until he could find his voice.

'Lucia...I need your help.'


	30. Opportunity Knocks

**((Here is another chapter for all you wonderful peeps! I hope that you enjoy it. I intend to try and post as regularly as possible whilst the hospital internet works! Please let me know what you think, and once again, thank you so much for your patience and commitment to this story!))**

* * *

For a while, no, for a long time, he didn't say anything. Didn't bother to open his eyes because he knew what waited for him when he finally did. There were a handful of regrets in his life, mistakes too big to hold in his hands without dropping them. The first was falling in love with Paige. It was too much, a feeling too great, too strong, it muddied his mind, conflicted his thoughts, confused his heart – and he'd ruined her. He'd brought her crashing down through the floors from that pedestal he'd placed her on. He'd clung to her as the rubble piled around them and made sure, that because he was selfish, so in love, so needful of her, that she was buried alive with him. Was this her great escape? Had she grown too strong to be held back by his desire?

The second was his brothers. He'd picked them fresh as thorns from the spiny rose bush of FCW; their conflicts had been wars in of themselves, their bonds stronger than any promise. What could break the chains that bound them together, the red ribbon which stretched heart to heart? It was so very simple that he'd never truly realized it. The Architect, the creator could destroy as well as he could design and could build. He'd forged their links in fire and blood, and his weakness, his ghastly self-loathing and exhaustion had built too much pressure. Too much – it was all too much. He hated himself and the body he laid in.

The third regret was the single one which would haunt him until the end of days. He'd plucked these people from their lives, their fulfilled, their exciting lives, and he'd forced them into his own because of his loneliness. He could kid himself that all along he'd had some kind of plan – that somewhere in the future, beyond the clouds of doubt and misfortune he was creating a better world for them. He had a complex, a clear, straight up, Messiah complex. But he was no saviour. He could not perform miracles, he couldn't protect the people he loved...he couldn't even protect himself. Desperation for adoration had ruined them all. And now he'd driven Dean away...the one who loved him most, who relied on him, who'd carried him. Dean had picked him up from the remains of tables, he'd caught him when he'd leaped from ring ropes, he'd consoled him when things became too much. He had such a simple outlook on life, so clear, unfiltered. Seth had muddied the waters with a stupid, selfish tongue. He was a snake. A fucking piece of shit, and Lucia had sat there, the whole night long, pausing only to clock out, to listen to him confess everything. When the early hours had come, and sleep conquered his eyes, she kissed his scarred brow and left him to dream; terrible, cruel dreams.

So that morning, when they brought him breakfast and pills, he didn't wake, didn't eat, didn't quell the pain in his body. He deserved it. He could starve for a while, could afford to lose the weight. Dean didn't come back. There was neither visit from Roman nor any messages from his girl. For the first day in the whole time he'd been laid flat in that hospital bed, he was truly alone. It was suffocating. The white wall above him had cracks and lines and he wondered if this was the very same room Roman had been in when he'd collapsed. Another incident he'd missed. There were so many things he'd somehow not realized, not considered, and they'd all resulted in his brothers and his girl getting hurt. Didn't consider Triple H entering himself into the rumble, didn't force Roman to get his head checked, didn't protect his girl. Wrestlemania paled in comparison.

The biggest event of the year had drifted past him in his endless sleep. And he didn't care. The idea of it felt hollow. He found out that Triple H had defended the title against Rusev of all people, and had held on. No Daniel Bryan reaching for the stars, no beloveds like Sami Zayn or Kevin Owens reaching the brass ring. The tide had turned...should he have held that title, should he have fought at Wrestlemania, headlined like he'd always dreamed, would things have been different? Would he have faced one of the fans darlings? Would he have faced the Game yet again? Roman? Dean? Would it all be something more than a sad man in a hospital bed with a head full of dreams and disappointments?

'Seth?'

Brian.

He didn't feel like trying to move. All the will had been sucked out of him. He pretended not to hear the porter, pretended to still be in some deep comatose sleep. Hoped that the Scotsman would just leave him to wallow in his own misery. And well enough, after a couple of minutes, the porter left the room, and Seth to his own thoughts. But mere minutes later, the door opened once again and he was rudely forced to open his eyes by someone poking his nose.

'He lives,'

Daisy.

'Leave me alone,' Seth muttered and attempted to hide beneath the blankets.

'No chance,' she pulled the sheets away from his face, 'if you want to waste your life in a hospital bed then so be it Rollins, I won't waste my time with losers.' She shrugged, one hand on top of bump, the other with sheets in fingers. 'But you know what? Brian here tells me that you were a champion before you ended up in here. Now I'd say that was impressive if I believed it. But by the look of you, the only thing you'd be champion of is sulking.'

'Fuck off,'

She didn't like that. Her hand reached out and jabbed him sharply on the collar bone, 'I could get fired for doing this Seth, but it's for your own good. Get your ass out of bed, sit up, face me and get this physio done. You can try and ignore it and hope that it'll go away, and you'll end up staying in your wheelchair for the rest of your life. Or, you can stand up, man up, and climb back into that ring.'

He was sure he could hear Brian's smug grin. The Scotsman's arms were folded, his blue eyes glinted with humour at the words he wouldn't dare to say coming out of the young woman's mouth. Daisy was dynamite in tracksuit bottoms and a men's t-shirt. He could have quite easily loved her if his heart had not already been divided and handed bleeding to three other people. There was no room left for Daisy. Reluctantly, he forced himself to sit up, to swing his stupid legs around the side of the bed and to awkwardly wait for Brian to help him into hospital issue pyjamas. By the time he was dressed, Daisy had left and returned with a balance ball bigger than she was. Obnoxious yellow in colour, it reminded him of that time Dean had liver poisoning.

'Right, since you were shaky yesterday on your legs we're going to do some core exercises using this. I know you were a fit guy – still are, so this should be a piece of pie for you.' She put it on the floor and rolled it to next to Seth, 'how you get on is up to you. Don't worry about falling off, your back will be to the bed, and I'll be on one side, Brian in front of you, you'll be safe.'

'I don't think safe is a word I'll ever use when you're around,' he muttered quietly. She seemed to hear him, but wisely ignored the comment and stood to the side, a hand held out for him to take. The transfer to that ball was difficult, but he managed to just about avoid face planting the floor. 'Right, we're going to do some pelvic exercises, I'm presuming you know how your pelvis works?'

A nod.

'Good, so rock your hips back and forth, and try to do so without holding onto myself or Brian. For everything you do right, I'll give you a compliment, everything you get wrong, I'll point out your flaws.'

'Has anyone ever told you what a bitch you are?'

'Frequently. My job is not to be kind, it's to benefit my patients and help them on their course to recovery. I need to push you Seth, as you've clearly lost your motivation since yesterday.' She didn't seem to care about the insult, in fact, she almost looked proud of his rudeness. 'Come on Rollins, for bump.'

Well how could he say no to bump?

He spent the next half hour on that blasted yellow ball. Shaky was right. He didn't realize quite how much his balance had been affected by the endless bed rest. Nausea set in but he was determined, spurred on by Daisy's comments and goading, he fulfilled each task she set for him, even managing for the first time to lift his broken leg, and place it back down once more. On more than one occasion he had to grab one of them for support, but would find his balance again and move on to the next task. The final was a lone transfer back to the bed. His body sore, he was uncertain if the supposed simple movement could be so easily done as Daisy suggested, but with her encouragement, he found himself back among the covers.

'That'll do Seth, that'll do,' she said, warmth in her face and eyes, that balance ball somehow tucked under one arm.

'Oh gee, thanks,' he pulled a face at her and hitched up that stupid leg of his with her help under the blankets once again.

'You did really well Seth, you should be proud,'

'Is that my reward compliment?'

'No, but instead of a compliment, let me give you some advice: don't push away the people who try to help you Seth. As much as you might wish you could, you can't do this kind of thing on your own. But with the right support, the right communication, and the right attitude, you can achieve more than you first think.'

'Lucia's been talking to you hasn't she?'

Daisy shook her head, 'I could see it all in your face the minute I walked through this door. Seth, whoever you've quarrelled with, fix it, before it's too broken to mend.' She turned and nodded to Brian, who obediently followed the young woman out of the door.

Ten minutes later, the hostess brought him food; the nurse brought him pain killers. He took them and he ate, mindful and heeding her words. As he munched on chicken and vegetables, he glanced to his mobile phone, sat on the small table next to his hospital bed. For a second he ignored it, then, he put his fork down and grabbed it. He opened a new text to Dean. For what felt like a whole hour, he stared at the blank screen before he started to type.

_I'm sorry Dean. The way I spoke to you yesterday was out of line. I didn't realize how much I'm struggling with all of this right now until you told me Paige is going back. I guess I was jealous that she was well enough to do it and took it out on you. I'm the shittest brother and sorry can't quite cut it. Forgive me for being such an asshole, I've got no excuses. I love you brother._

He sent it before he could change his mind.

* * *

That night he slept fitfully. Dreams plagued him of Paige leaving him, of her laughing as she told him that she was too good for him, that the Shield didn't need him. His brothers too joined in the taunt, told him how unreliable he was, how worthless he was, and when he woke it was to the realization that he alone was the problem. Finally he saw it. The truth was, he was flawed, so very much. He thought himself important when in reality he couldn't work without the other members of the Shield. He believed he had to protect everyone when in truth they were strong enough to care for themselves and have their own ambitions without him needing to watch over them. They'd been through their individual hells, and come out of it stronger. Roman may not have been able to wrestle anymore, but it didn't mean he was out of the game. Dean, even if it was with the crutches, could walk. He was on the mend, and that cast would be off in the coming weeks. Paige was in one beautiful piece, brave, strange and perfect, she could do anything she wanted – as long as he didn't try to hold her back with his own stupidity. And what of him? Well, maybe he couldn't fight right now, but his brain still worked, his tongue could work too. He couldn't carve a masterpiece, but he could lay out the plans...and trust his friends to carry them out.

Weary, he rubbed his eyes and looked back to the phone next to him. To his surprise, the screen was bright, a new message in. He grabbed it, oblivious to the pain of his twisting body and quickly opened it up. But there were no words. Instead it was a photo, a selfie taken by Paige. In it she was fully clothed, and appeared to be in some kind of bathroom, but none that he recognized. Behind her mirrors were smashed and there was graffiti on the walls. Not a nice place, but the smirk on her face worried him. Quickly he texted in response:

_Where are you?_

A few seconds passed.

_The most expensive bathroom in Greenwich._

It seemed he was right to panic.

_Paige what the hell do you think you're doing? If they find you they'll do more than fire you again, they'll kill you!_

_Relax, the royals are out for a romantic dinner, the kiddles are with Mr Mac. Nice place they have. Maybe we should invade together sometime._

_You're insane. Paige, leave now._

_Don't be a buzzkill. I was packing up anyway._

_Packing up what?_

She didn't answer with words. Instead, another picture came through: his girl, a belt thrown over each shoulder. The diva's title, the world heavyweight championship. He didn't know what to say to her, didn't know how to react. He swallowed his wet throat dry. 'Shit,'

_Before you even start telling me to put everything back, I have now exited the building. My ride is comfortable and driven by a lunatic with a broken leg. Note to self, never ask Ambrose to be getaway driver ever again._

Dean was in on it too? What were they playing at? What...oh what geniuses. What perfection! What classic, crazy madness...the people who had been fired, the people who couldn't walk, who couldn't think, who couldn't do anything...the last humans on earth who would pull off something like this. The titles, fat and gold and silver and shining were the last straws to snap the Shield's back. What better way to rebuild than to take them back once more? Not for champions but for exiles. They may not have been within the contracts of the company but Paige was. She may not be safe to enter the arenas, but she could attack from the outside. If Vince had caved to her being rehired simply because of the demands of the horsewomen...then no doubt he would cave, in exchange for the titles return, rehiring the rest of them.

_Please tell me that you're planning on blackmailing them with those belts._

_Actually I didn't have a plan after taking them and letting out some rage. I hoped that you would be able to come up with a scheme from your hospital bed honey._

_Well now that you mention it, I have a few ideas._

_That's my man. We'll come by in the morning, save your kisses for us._

_I love you, you crazy bitch._

_I know you do!_

He chuckled at that and put the phone down. The night still had a long while to go, the sun had yet to rise, but when he did, it would be a brand new day, full of opportunity and excellence. He may not have been able to leave his hospital bed, but that didn't stop the cogs in his brain. Perhaps all he'd needed was Daisy to get them oiled and moving again. He'd lost his way in the months he'd been stuck in that room...was that to be expected? The pessimist in him had won a battle; the depression had swallowed his will. But now...oh now...thanks to his girl, to his brother, their scheme had his mind spinning. Seth sat up as well as he could. He grabbed a pen and a scrapped napkin and started to write, jotting down every thought, every chance to be taken, and every move they could make. In the distant reaches of his incredible brain, the sparks ignited, that great factory that ploughed through circumstance and impossibility burst into industrial life. He felt the headache which threatened to derail him but he blinked his way through, determined, finally, after weeks of nothingness to succeed once again. Walking would come. For now, it was time to return to battle. His body could not fight, but his brain would be his weapon and his friends his soldiers.

_I hope you're ready Triple H. I'm coming for you._


	31. Roles Reversed

**((Hello everyone! Here is the newest instalment of Seth's story. I hope that you enjoy it! It's slightly different to a normal chapter, but I hope that you still like it! Please comment to let me know what you think!))**

* * *

He stood there, in that ring, one hand smugly in his pocket, the other with a firm grip on the microphone. Another suit, another few thousand tossed aside for excellent tailoring. Next to him, his wife stood in a form fitting dress which somehow just made her even more unbearable. She had that skill, no matter what she wore; she somehow managed to look too much. Perhaps it was those cruel hawk eyes or the tight lips that made her look like a bitch. Or maybe it was just the universal acknowledgement that any good in her body was stored up for her kids. There was no real doubt that if it benefitted her, her husband could even be in her firing line. Stephanie McMahon was her father's daughter. If old Vincent Mac had once tried to beat her half to death in an I Quit match, then who was to say anyone was really safe?

The crowd were enthusiastic with boos – they echoed around the ATT Centre. San Antonio was always a bold crowd and were not afraid to show just how unhappy they were about yet another opening promo by the Authority. The past few months had gone from them being intolerable to hated with a bloodthirsty aggression. Ever since Fastlane, the crowds had become more violent, more vocal and more and more laughable. Fools! How could they jeer at the people who had saved the company from such idiots like the Shield? Who else could keep the locker room in line? None! Few and far between! They ruled with an iron fist. When they said jump, their employees jumped into that ring because it was still fresh in their minds, the beating that had crippled Seth Rollins, that had ended the career of Roman Reigns that had...well Ambrose was fucked up before a finger had even been laid on his sweating skin.

'In two weeks, the Money in the Bank pay-per-view will take over Columbus Ohio.' The Game bellowed into his microphone. 'Tonight will determine who will be the entrants into the ladder match to win the opportunity to challenge, at any time, any place for this,' he slowly unbuttoned the front of his grey blazer to reveal that title, sat a little too snug around his waist. Upon seeing it the people jeered even louder, but then from somewhere, a chant broke out. It travelled through the people like wildfire, and within seconds, the whole arena broke out: we want Rollins. The smirk of the Game didn't even twitch. For months now, no matter where the shows were held, the mocking shout followed him. Even at Wrestlemania, the greatest stage of them all, during his bout against Rusev, the crowd attempted to take his glory away. 'Your pathetic love for Rollins is sickening.' He growled. 'Why be loyal to a man who is too weak to stand against a _god_.' His pointed finger moved around the stadium, 'I stand here before you every time, martyr myself for your entertainment, I'm your champion, your _king_. But then why would you? How would you appreciate what our family suffers?' he put a hand around Stephanie's waist and pulled her close. 'Because of our dedication to you, to the WWE universe, we spend days away from our family! From our children, and when we succeed all you do is deny us our victories against adversity! Pathetic, inexcusable, all you want are your false messiahs and prophets. The people you want are not here, will never be here again, too afraid to confront us, to confront me. The Shield are dead.'

He liked saying that.

'I slaughtered the hounds of hell. I did. Me – the king of kings! I brought meaning back to this championship. I brought meaning to this company and I will have your respect.'

Stephanie patted his shoulder affectionately before raising her own microphone to her lips. 'I think what we have here is a simple miscommunication. You ask for Seth Rollins, and we would gladly give him to you all, broken, crippled, scraps of a man! But he is not here. He hasn't been here. You have all called for him and he's never answered you. Not once. Yet you are faithful to him,' she shook her head, 'I pity you all. Your belief is wasted on the undeserving, when a man stands before you who has given his all for your entertainment...you should give him your support. Without him, there is no WWE.' She moved away from him and walked around that ring, owning every square inch with pointed stiletto heels. 'Without the WWE...there is no you.' Venom dripped from her tongue, eyes flashed in the lights. 'But if it pleases you, scream for the Shield. Cry for them, but they won't come, can't come they're done. A beast without a head; the locker room has been purged. So now, now let us announce the entrants for the Money in the Bank qualifier!'

And of course, each name that passed her lips brought more boos. The top heels in the company filed forward until they ran out of lackies to call. Begrudging, a handful of names were also called. Each of the last entrants came to the stage, but didn't head down to the ring where the Authority's favourites were. Too weary of what would happen to them. Each of the wrestlers on the stage showed signs of wear and tear. Daniel Bryan's long hair had been cut short from where Stephanie had ripped out great chunks after his defeat at the hands of her husband. Sami Zayn's shoulder had been bound in place, Cesaro's prominent limp could not be ignored, John Cena was nowhere to be seen...but Ziggler...the man was a mess. Over the months that had passed, the Authority had used him as a personal chew toy. The matches he'd been put in had been excuses to beat the crap out of him. They'd all suffered attacks backstage. So was the tyranny of the Authority.

'This will be an elimination match. Pinfall or submission will see you defeated.' Stephanie beamed at those who stood with her. Jericho, Big Show, Kane, Kevin Owens, a seemingly annoyed Bray Wyatt, Sheamus, Rusev and Braun Strowman all had joined the cause...because it was easier. Pandering to the egos of the Authority and doing their dirty work was safer and smarter. Even if they didn't like it. Because of an attack orchestrated by Stephanie, the whole group had taken down John Cena, and whilst he'd been cleared, another attack before the show had proved enough to keep him down. Such a shame, 'Only six of you will make it through to the Money in the Bank match. I'd wish you all luck but...' she paused, smiled and licked her upper lip, 'I don't think some of you are deserving of my favour.'

Carefully Stephanie and her husband exited that ring. An official entered as the weary competitors on the stage edged toward the ring quickly inhabited by the Authority's toys...

* * *

It was brutal.

The whole while, the power couple sat at ringside and watched the carnage. It wasn't so much a clash of titans as a coyote against road kill. Hunter held his wife's hand, eyes trained on that ring. Even when Sami Zayn was sent crashing toward them, smacking against the commentary table, he didn't flinch. The underdogs were biting and scratching and doing whatever they could from where they'd been cornered by overwhelming odds. Even after minutes of stillness, the red headed wrestler pulled himself up from the floor, and staggered back into the ring. Next to him, Stephanie seemed to get off on the violence, barely able to keep still, her hatred for the men who had stood up to them backstage was threatening her composure. She couldn't compress the giggle and clap of joy as Big Show and Kane tangled Bryan into the ropes. They held him there, all the while stomping on his exposed joints and head. Ziggler and Cesaro were not fairing any better. The first elimination came after a surprise burst of energy from Zayn. Sheamus found himself exposed in a ring corner, and when his face was met with an aggressive Helluva Kick, he crumbled to the floor and with a 1-2-3, he was out. The Game rubbed his chin. There were many of his associates left. The chance of any of the protestors actually getting through was non-existent.

Minutes crawled by.

Sheamus was followed by Wyatt, by Kane. Somehow the underdogs were surviving. Triple H's teeth were grit tight. The urge to interfere was strong, his men starting to dwindle. But then his smile grew. Cesaro, concentrating on a fallen Big Show turned into a Codebreaker from a broken nosed Jericho. It was almost as if in slow motion. He stumbled back into a corner and into a cannonball from Kevin Owens. Dazed, confused, even his incredible strength wasn't enough to try and kick out from beneath Owens' bulk. That was better, much better. And from there, things improved further. Only two more needed to be eliminated before the six were left. Realizing that if they worked as a team, they could destroy their opponents, Jericho and Owens beat Sami Zayn down as Strowman pulvarized a helpless Bryan, and Ziggler struggled for breath in the grip of Rusev. Big Show marched from one helpless man to the next, throwing in his two cents of violence. The crowd hated it, didn't want to see anymore of their heroes beaten into oblivion.

Zayn wasn't moving. They could have so easily just pinned him but...there was no fun in that. Show lifted the prone man into the air, high above his head, smirking the whole time, showing the audience, look, look at him, look what we've done. Triple H clapped, happy in the sacrifice of one of the world's greatest as Show threw Zayn back to the mat. He placed a foot on him. 1 – 2 –

The lights cut.

Darkness covered the arena.

And then,

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

A light flashed on over the ring.

In its very centre, stood a figure. Hooded, it was still as anything. The crowd didn't know what to do, but the buzz was clear, the anticipation. In their chairs, the Authority sat and watched in horror. The hood drew back, long black hair fell free, wild eyes looked all around as the lights flared back up to find the bodies of all on the mat, heels held down by dozens of hands.

_Welcome back! Welcome back! Welcome back!_

A microphone was raised to mouth, a smile, proud for the reception given. But before a single word was spoken the Game was on his feet, his own microphone to his mouth, face red in fury.

'Reigns!'

Roman shrugged and adjusted his glasses as he peered around at the entirety of the women's locker, feet and manicured hands devastating men twice their size, among them, Charlotte Flair, Bayley, Sasha Banks, Becky Lynch...and Paige. He winked at his girls and turned his attention to the rapidly reddening Game and his wife.

'You know, I would have thought you'd open the show with the announcement of your women's division becoming stronger than ever, but hey, I guess instead we'll begin with your proposal for the Money in the Bank match,' he looked at the fallen men and shook his head, 'now in this ring you have some of the greatest talent the world has ever seen – and Big Show. Seems to me that instead of having someone deserving who could oppose you, you instead choose people you can pay off and who are too old to even speed walk. Now how does that work?' carefully he bent down to where Sami lay and gently, he heaved him up, slung the other man's arm around his neck and looked him over with worry. Next to him Jericho attempted to kick off Becky and Brie, who swiftly responded in kind changing position to put him into a De-Armer.

'Reigns get out of my ring. Get out of this building! You have no contract with us! No right to be here!' The Game spat, 'I fired you, all of you and your Shield friends! Security!'

Roman chuckled at that and scratched the back of his head with the microphone, before adjusting his hold on Sami, 'Actually I'm a paying member of the audience,' he pushed two fingers into a pocket and withdrew a ticket stub, 'See? Every right to be here enjoying the show...but see that's where the problem is. Right ladies?'

The women's locker room had come out in full, every single one of them viper ready. Paige had worked with the Bella twins to co-ordinate them all, and with Cena and Bryan injured, the girls were more than happy to have a taste of revenge.

'You said earlier 'the Shield are dead',' Roman shook his head, 'Wishful thinking Triple H, we're all very much alive. Hurt, yes. Broken, perhaps, but I'm here to remind you, in the words of your ol' friend Shawn Michaels – don't hunt what you can't kill.'

Paige removed herself from where she'd teamed with Naomi and Alicia Fox to keep Rusev down – he was a handful and Bayley promptly helped to hold him. Paige skipped over to where Roman stood and kissed his cheek before taking the microphone from his hand. Her lips were black and she'd smeared war paint across her face. Fierce, feisty and full of pent up aggression, she looked directly at Stephanie.

'For months now, you've refused any matches for the diva's championship. Our championship. But now, now you don't have a choice sweet pea. Because when took on the Horsewomen, you took on me once again – and I'm calling in my rematch clause.' She smirked. The whole time she'd worn a hooded jumper over her ring gear. But then, with a flourish, she pulled it off, revealing to the whole arena the pink butterfly belt around her waist. 'I've taken it from you Stephanie, but, in order for you to get it back in order to defend it...you're going to have to do something for me,'

The Authority, side by side looked as if they might explode. Their faces were crimson red, their eyes filled with the promise of a thousand tortures, but they could do nothing. No security came. Backstage, a handful of the locker held them back. To try and charge the ring would be suicide. The weak link was Reigns with his busted brain – but he was surrounded by the impenetrable defence of the women. They held down the men, but didn't let their guard down one second. This was smart, co-ordinated.

'Rollins,' Hunter hissed into his microphone, 'this was his idea, all of this!' he scrambled for his phone, furiously trying to get hold of the security team, of JJ the police, anyone. 'When I find him, I'll choke the life out of him!'

'He's not here,' Paige smiled, 'nor will you get your hands on him sweetie. He's too smart to let you close enough to hurt him. But...' she licked those lips teasingly, 'there is the matter of him, and the rest of my boys. You want this belt back? You re-hire the Shield.'

'Burn in hell!'

'Bit rude,' Roman muttered. From where he held him, Zayn still hadn't stirred. They had to wrap this up to get him and the others medical attention soon, or who knew what would happen. Zayn had taken some of the worst bumps ever seen, but there was only so much someone could take. Hell, he was living proof of that.

'Come now, you're business people,' Paige smiled once more, 'the longer you take to agree, the more of your lackies we eliminate, it's all very simple. I should think that you could spot a good business deal when you see it.' Seconds passed, the static between them was enough to spark a storm, but when the Authority didn't answer, she sighed, 'oh well I guess we'll just have to sort out this mess then,' she nodded to Roman.

Carefully, he manoeuvred Sami to where Big Show had been dog-piled by Nikki and several others, and as gently as he could, he laid the man over the giant. The ref, clearly having no idea what to do, hit the mat and started to count 1 – 2 – 3.

'That's one!' Paige announced gleefully as Roman once again lifted the unconscious wrestler, 'who next?' The crowd shouted out the names of the people they wanted gone. Paige placed a hand to her ear, encouraging them to shout. 'Who's that? Strowman?' she beamed at the enraged couple on the floor, 'see this is how you listen to your audience. Roman, be a darlin' -,'

Obediantly, he took Sami to the man mountain and laid him over Braun's bucking body. 1 - 2 -3.

'Oh would you look at that...six competitors left. Looks like that's even now, wouldn't you say? Though I suppose we could make the odds even fairer if we used inappropriate violence to cut your boys down to size...'

'Alright!'

The word didn't come from the Game. His wife had snatched the microphone from his hand. He stared at her in shock, in anger. Even as she said it you could see the horror in her face when she realized what she'd done. She swallowed, tried not to look at her husband. 'Alright. Fine. They're re-hired. But I warn you Paige...I'm going to destroy you, all of you! That's my belt and I will take it back!'

'Come and get it honey, it's all yours – for now. Soon, I'll be wearing that title once more...' she undid it and showed it around all the ladies, 'remember girls – this is what we fight for in here...so, once I've taken it back...all takers are welcome.' She put it down on the mat. The cheers were deafening. The women took one last opportunity to kick at their victims before pulling back with Paige and Roman, helping their fallen allies, and making sure to keep a tight circle around Reigns, to keep him safe, protected. They retreated up that ramp as the camera focused on Triple H and his wife arguing at ring side, the women's title abandoned in the ring.

* * *

Seth grinned and leaned back in the bed, arms crooked behind his head in their clunky white casts. Paige's laptop was open on the table next to his bed, streaming the live footage. Dean sat on the end, next to his feet, a massive bowl of popcorn in his hand, half of which was on the floor from where he'd spilled it pointing and laughing at the Authority. Yes, this would be fun. Paige and Roman had performed their role well, and he couldn't wait for the next stage.

'Is it my turn next? Can ol' Dean go play soon?' his brother asked, bouncing on the thin mattress. He'd forgiven Seth as easy as pie, but insisted that he be allowed to live with him in his hospital room to keep him safe from the physiotherapists and potential attacks from the Authority. Most of what Paige had said about keeping himself safe was talk. But he wouldn't easily forget what had become of Dean, and refused to go through the same hell. The hospital staff were weary of Dean, didn't want to come into the room whilst he was there in case he would bite, but Lucia would come frequently, if only to see the monster at the foot of the bed. They'd bonded, the gremlin and the nurse. Perhaps it was because she'd mothered him and Dean had never really experienced that, it was beautiful to see as he allowed her to hug him, to cut his hair and to tell him off for misbehaving.

'Sure, but only if you're good,' Seth chuckled and filched a handful of popcorn. 'Raw down, another and two Smackdowns to go until that shiny gold briefcase hangs high...I think this will be fun, don't you?'

Dean gave a crooked, toothy grin.

'Ladders and tables and chairs and sticks and bricks oh my,'


	32. Stairway To Heaven

**((Oh hai there you lovely creatures! Here is the next, newest instalment just for all of you fantastic people! I hope that you like it, and as always thank you for your support, we're getting ever closer to 16,000 views which is absolutely insane! Please let me know in the comments what you think!))**

Planes and cars and constant travel were the ways of the wrestler. Some would spend their entire lives on the road, moving state to state, driving dangerously long hours just to make it to the next show. He could remember the days when he would find himself squashed into a beat up Chevy with his fellows heading up interstate after interstate, looking to get booked wherever he could. Being within a company, having a contract, that was priceless, that was what people tried their whole lives long to achieve in the business. Playing the game and learning from the legends and men and women who'd been fighting their days away in the rings was how you improved. You fought matches that you hoped would garner acclaim, did what you could when the angle was bad, when the story just couldn't be told. How could history be written when there was no connection, no chemistry? There had to be emotion, there had to be threat, and there had to be some kind of spark to get you noticed by the big leagues.

Before the WWE he'd found himself in the stomping grounds of some of the greats. Ring of Honour had been good to him, he'd made friends and enemies, had climbed to the top of that ladder, held the title and wondered: _what next_? It was only when the gates of FCW opened up, took him in that he really started to grasp for those brass rings hung teasingly above them all. The WWE expected the best in the world, and he was among a great many of them. His inflated ego had been extinguished when his attitude had threatened his career with the company...and that was when he started to develop his brain. What a brain! A mind he'd not realized he possessed, quick thinking, analytical, progressive...that portable computer inside of his head had resulted in many wins...but more defeats. From one ego to the next...had it been his ego that found him in the hospital bed, doodling on his various casts with a black _Sharpie_ pen? Had it been his great pride? Maybe it was an amalgamation of every single of his very human flaws, and as he sat there, and watched Dean colour in his haphazard art, he found he ultimately didn't care.

He was alive. He might have lost the title, might have been defeated, but that was alright. That was ok. He couldn't win all the time because he might have been a fucking genius, and generally an all around great guy, handsome, generous, heck in Paige's eyes he was _beautiful_, but he was still a human being. And if being a human being meant he could enjoy the mundane but plot the downfall of an empire whilst stuck in constant medical care, entertaining a grown man with crayons and pelting one another with grapes, then hey, mortality was alright.

'What colour do you want the goldfish?' Dean asked and scratched the side of his face. Lucia had made him shave and the growing stubble was a constant irritant to him.

'That's supposed to be a carp,'

'Big fuckin' goldfish then,'

'Whatever you want – they're normally orange though.' Seth tried to see where he'd managed to somehow draw the fish on his calf. Art was not his forte. But he'd tried. He glanced at his phone on the table. 'Do you think Paige and Roman have reached the Cajundome yet?' they'd reached Lafayette, Louisiana an hour or so before hand. But knowing Paige's driving they could have collided with a lamp or an inconveniently placed pedestrian. Apparently the English were maniac drivers – or maybe that was just her. Seth didn't miss being in a car with her at all. It was far safer in the warm safety of the Regional One Health hospital. But as Dean selected a red crayon and started colouring in Seth's misshapen carp, a thought struck him.

'Dean? Why is Lucia here?' this wasn't where they'd first met her. Philadelphia was a long way from Memphis. It didn't make any sense – surely she wouldn't have transferred in her job to just follow them around and be personal nurse to the Shield. But then...she'd appeared everywhere. She'd been in each different hospital they'd found themselves in over the course of the last few months. No matter what the problem, no matter how life threatening...she'd been there.

For a few minutes Dean didn't answer him, but concentrated on making the fish as bright as possible. When he did stop, when he did put that fist full of crayons down, he fidgeted in place, not quite meeting Seth's bespectacled eyes. 'I think...I think she feels guilty.'

'About what?' Seth blinked in confusion.

'What happened to me,' Dean licked his lips, then bit the lower and glanced down at his candy cane leg. He'd never quite told them all everything that had happened during his time in the Game's captivity. If they asked, he clammed up, shut down; few things could silence the Lunatic Fringe, but even he had his nightmares. It seemed certain, that'd he'd lived through one at the hands of the Authority. 'She blames herself that they took me...she doesn't want it to happen to you. And I don't either!' Dean scratched at that jaw of his, with broken nails, angry, upset.

'She came here...to keep an eye on us?'

Dean nodded slowly, '_someone have to save the heroes._' The accent he put on was perfect, smooth Spanish. He'd learned so much from her, she'd been a more positive influence than Seth could ever hope he would be. But there, on his table, was the card Dean had drawn and done for him. It had complete pride of place, and whenever a doctor or a different nurse would come in, he made sure they noticed it. When Daisy and Bryan had come by to get him moving, Lucia had hauled Dean off to have him eat something whilst the physiotherapists did their work; Daisy had seen the card, picked it up, and smiled. When Dean had returned, she'd given him a kiss to the forehead. He'd been so surprised he'd forgotten to growl at Bryan. 'She told me Seth, she told me that where we go, she goes now. We end up in hospital, she looks after us.'

'But how can she do that? How can she give up a stable life to transfer constantly between hospitals, just to keep an eye on us?'

'_Ella tiene un gran corazón_,' Dean tapped his chest, where he knew his heart to be. 'Some people are born to love.'

Dean, Dean was born to love. Is that what had left him wild, had turned him into the untameable animal they'd met in FCW? Had he loved too much and received nothing in return? Had he given his all and found that no matter what he tried, how he felt it wouldn't make people care? When they'd met...he'd been so full of hate, fear masquerading as bestial aggression; a raging storm without direction or intention. Somehow, through their battles, Dean wore down, he showed the child that was hidden inside the crazed outer shell; _the gold beneath the shit_. Quiet, he picked up his crayons and was about to resume his colouring, but Seth caught his hand, and pulled his brother toward him, pulled him into an embrace which hurt every inch of his body. But he held on, strong. At first unsure, Dean collapsed against Seth, enveloped him in his arms and tucked his head against his. Seth could feel it – his brother's perpetual heartbeat. That heavy war drum, ancient, forever cursed to echo the past and the future and every bloody battle between. Love could hurt more than any weapon.

'I love you Dean,' Seth muttered into the fabric of his brother's t-shirt. Had he ever really said it out loud? In written word, sent through a phone but never to his face, never from his own lips; perhaps in his maddened love for Paige, the sickening lust that came with it, had he forgotten just how much his brothers meant to him? Had it been his love for them which had sent him down this path of destruction, trying to avenge them, rather than protect the seeds of a revolution?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

All the good intention in the world could pave the way to hell. He'd missed the point of his whole crusade, had forgotten the fact that they were a brotherhood of vagabonds and lost souls who'd banded together out of something more than respect. He found himself closing his eyes, keeping this moment safe, a fixed point in time, a Polaroid memory he could call upon when he lost his way again.

'Love you too,' Dean's voice was a half mulch of hair and unbalance. He didn't seem to know how to react to what was happening, and then, without warning, Seth felt something damp hit the back of his neck, droplets, one after another, silent tears from a man who didn't let himself feel too much beyond the highest heights and the lowest depths.

Finally, when he'd run out of salty water, Dean sniffed and pulled himself back from Seth. 'Don't you dare fuckin' tell Rome or Paige any of this.'

Seth didn't say anything, instead, he picked up a pink crayon, and started to colour in the tail of a unicorn Paige had scrawled onto his leg cast when she was last with them, before she and Roman had flown out for Raw. He missed them both, but he knew he'd see them again soon, talk to them soon. They were doing great. He wished they could all be together, giving the Authority mirth, but he knew now that Paige and Roman could handle it. He trusted them. And now...he finally understood why Dean had kissed Paige...it had been relief, happiness that she was alright, because _yes_, Dean loved Paige; loved her as he loved Seth and as he loved Roman. In an industry where macho was encouraged and feelings were put on the highest dusty shelf, he realized that what had made the Shield so strong, all along, had been because they were, completely and truly, eternally, brothers.

* * *

Smackdown may have been lower on the ladder in the Authority's mind compared to its big brother Raw, but it was just as important in Seth's mind. Dean had re-acquainted himself with the red chair that sat next to Seth's bed, and whilst all the grapes were gone or squashed on the floor, he'd somehow managed to curry enough favour with the hospital staff (or Lucia had pulled a good many strings) that he'd ended up with a pot of strawberry ice cream. He had been delighted by this and resolved to be 'gooder' in order to get more treats. Seth's half-eaten dinner had been put on the table, he wasn't hungry right now. He just wanted to see his girl on that screen. Paige's laptop sat open next to the tray; Smackdown's opening playing to the cheers of the crowd in the Cajundome. And as soon as the pyro and hype ended, out strode Stephanie McMahon, that pink and silver belt over her shoulder. She looked smug, despite the events of Raw. She looked as if she'd swallowed an attitude adjustment, her face pursed up into that smirk that Seth just hated so very, very much. Though one thing surprised him, she actually...looked rather nice. A bright blue dress fitted her perfectly and her make-up was minimal – she looked like a human being. Well who knew?

Then she opened her mouth.

'First things first,' she had this nasty habit of speaking through her nose, it always reminded him of a frog's croak, 'despite what you may think, and despite of what you've all been sharing on social media, I emerged victorious on Monday. The belt is in my possession, I am the rightful Diva's champion. My husband Triple H has _three_ worthy competitors vying for the Money in the Bank briefcase, and _three_ failures who as of yet haven't crawled out of the hospital.' She looked very pleased with herself about that. Maybe it had been a slow day at the office. 'But right now I have another issue I need to address – on Raw I was _forced_, _blackmailed_ into re-hiring the cretins who tried to destroy our industry.' Cheers erupted from the crowd, a chant for the Shield echoed and Stephanie's face wrinkled in disgust. 'But! But! How can I re-hire people who can't sign a contract? Therefore only Roman Reigns and Paige have been brought back into the company.' The cheers turned to disgusted boos. This time she looked pleased with herself for pulling out the welcome mat from under the Shield's feet. 'And since our poor, dear Roman Reigns has not, and will never again be cleared to wrestle...' she shrugged, 'well I just don't understand what I'm supposed to do with him except...'

The titanitron's screen suddenly flashed to backstage. The camera was shaky, the operator running toward a full on melee in one of the corridors. There, at the centre of it all – Roman. Big Show, Rusev and Jericho and Owens attacked with hatred, with such ferocity that it was difficult to watch. They whipped him into the wall, slammed him against boxes, and when he slumped to the floor, trying to protect his delicate head, Jericho pulled his glasses off his face and snapped them clean in front of him. There was a distant look in Roman's eyes, but they weren't done with him yet.

Nor was he done with them.

He was dragged up, hoisted over Big Show's shoulder. Satisfied they started back up the corridor, toward the stage, Jericho and Owens, seemingly best buddies leading the way. Stephanie beamed, a hand raised to the screen. The crowd's displeasure was so loud, that the speakers were drowned out.

'You see? You see? This is what happens to people who defy us, who challenge us! They fall by the edge of the road and waste away to nothing. Roman Reigns – promising, he could have gone somewhere, been someone, been head of this company – a shining star! Instead, he allied himself with betrayers and mad men, and so he's nothing. Just like the company he keeps.'

Too soon they started to emerge onto the stage. Full of swagger, Jericho looked like the cat who had the cream. Owens came not long after, then Rusev, and as Stephanie congratulated them all, they waited. And waited. And waited.

No Big Show.

The titanitron flashed back to life, back to that corridor, and the body of an unconscious Big Show blocking the whole thing, different shades of lipstick stain all over his face. Even out cold he was smiling.

'Where is he? Find him! Find him!' Stephanie screamed.

'I'll save you the bother Stephanie!'

The crowd erupted, because there, at the top of the stairs leading through the crowd, stood Roman. He stood casually, leaning against Bayley, one arm around Sasha Banks and Paige perched next to them on the stair rail. He looked worse for wear, his hair haggard around his face, but that mischievous grin on his face would have made the devil proud. Roman had always been very quiet around most women with the exception of Paige, but he looked completely comfortable and pleased with himself as he stood there with those ladies.

'You know if you're going to try and put a hit on me, you really should make sure that you employee people who won't do a shoddy job...and aren't distracted by these stunning creatures,' he winked at Bayley who shoved him affectionately. Thank whatever God was out there for Roman Reigns. He had that strange ability with women that most men could only dream of. He understood them, and appreciated every quality of their existence...told them what they wanted to hear and respected them. Few could compare. The two Horsewomen were all over him whilst Paige waggled her fingers at Stephanie mockingly. 'By the way, I think you should check on _knucklehead_ back there, he took quite a strike to the noggin. Now...correct me if I'm wrong but aren't the three left on that stage the handpicked entrants for the Money in the Bank match. I can't quite recognize them without these ladies boots in their faces.'

'Reigns!' Stephanie spluttered in rage. 'Reigns I will destroy you! I'll rip you to shreds! You think you can hide behind the diva's division? Well you're wrong! Any of those women who help you from now on are fired! Everyone single one! You'll have no one to save you! Nowhere to hide! Your head won't be all that is broken by the time I'm finished with you!'

Roman stroked his chin thoughtfully, 'Pretty sure that means you won't _have_ a _women's_ division by the end of today then. Somehow I don't think your beloved daddy will let you go that far. Jee isn't that a shame?' where his arm was around Sasha's shoulders, she reached up and laced her fingers through his. He noticed this pressed a short kiss to her forehead. She beamed at him and laughed. 'I guess I'd just have to take them all home with me, but...' he sighed and paused. The audience loved him. This was a new Roman, charismatic, forward and _smart_. 'Hey Paige, have you noticed there are three of you, and three of those boys on stage? Since they were so incompetent at taking me out, I think you'd do better in the Money in the Bank ladder match than they would.'

The crowd let out a roar of approval.

Owens had clearly had enough, quickly flanked by Jericho and Rusev, he barrelled down the ramp and threw himself over the barricade into the crowd. For a big guy he could move fast, and soon he was heading up the steps to where Roman stood. The fury was clear in their faces, their pride wounded. And as they drew closer, closer, Roman took a single step back with Sasha, allowing Bayley to move to the front. All her bright colours and smiles hid talent and strength beyond what she looked to possess, and as Owens approached hands out to grab her, she gripped hold of both rails in her hands to steady herself and slammed her forehead forward. It met Owens with a crack heard round the entire stadium. Sasha came next, swift as a snake, slithered around Bayley's shield stance, wrapped her arms around the other woman's neck and swung her legs in his direction; they caught him square in the jaw. Owens staggered, stumbled back – straight into Jericho and Rusev. They tumbled back down those stairs to the cheers of thousands. Roman's arms were folded, and he laughed and laughed.

'Reigns I'm going to – you wait I'll!' she couldn't even get the words out.

'Stephanie,' Paige, she had Roman's mic, her singsong voice mocking, 'what's wrong Steph? All your toys broken, well ain't that just a _cryin'_ shame? Guess with all those bumps those boys will be on par with our friends at Money in the Bank. I think that's more fair, and you know what else I think Steph? I think it's only fair that people get the showdown they've been waiting for, because I want my rematch with you _the very same night_.' She flicked her rook wing hair over her shoulder and blew the woman a kiss.

She dropped the microphone to the floor. Bayley and Sasha moved back up the stairs, to where the four of them stood, victorious as the crowd cheered, as the Shield's music hit to the rhythm of Stephanie's drowned out barrage of abuse.

* * *

Later that night, Seth replayed the stair incident over and over. Oh, it was so perfect! Stephanie liked to think she planned ahead, that she was the front runner, that she could cover all exits and be one step in front of the enemy. But that was it; she was one women trying to command an army of idiots. The whole night long, Roman had played her and it was fucking magnificent. Had he planned any of it? Plenty of steps, he'd guessed that they would attack Roman, and so had made sure that the ladies would be with him, just out of sight to give the Authority's lackies some peace of mind. But beyond that, it was Roman and Paige.

The Architect had built the steps, but they'd climbed the mountain. He'd never been so proud of his brother. Roman had never tried to snatch the spotlight, had operated in the background of it all, did what they needed, protected them, but now...he was the one who needed looking after. That didn't mean he would stay away from the firing line. Was it dangerous? Yes. Could it all go wrong in a millisecond? Yes. The Authority would soon catch on to everything that was going on; they'd try and separate Roman from safety of the women. But that was fine. He could figure that out, plan ahead. Tonight though, tonight he deserved some rest. Dean was curled up in that chair, fast asleep, a line of drool running from his mouth, a blanket thrown over him by Seth from his own bed. He didn't feel tired, he felt fantastic, best he had in months seeing the successes of his girl and his brother, and the girls. The women's division had been kept down for so long, seen as second fiddle, it was an added bonus that they were brought to the forefront.

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his nose from where they had pinched. Next to him, the screen of his phone illuminated with a beep. Probably Paige, maybe Roman – though considering how he'd been with those girls that night it wouldn't have surprised him if he'd followed them to the gym or on a night out. They deserved the fun. He picked up the phone and squinted at the number. Jamie.

_Triple H is on the warpath after what just happened Seth. Be careful. He knows you're behind it all and I know he's going to try and find you, and if he can't, he'll hurt whoever he can get his hands on. We'll do our best to give you any early warnings we can, but I think he's on to us. Get well soon Seth – you're going to need to._

In some ways, Seth had been expecting the text, if not from J&amp;J then from one of the men's locker room. Triple H may not have been there at Smackdown but he was a man of work, always doing something. Even if he'd been home in Greenwich with his girls, he would have seen his wife's humiliation all over the T.V. How satisfying! He could imagine the man trying not to explode. There was the element of danger, of course there was. They were playing a deadly game, but it gave him a thrill. He looked over his body and wondered if the bones had started to fuse, to heal properly. He was due an x-ray, maybe then, he'd find out just how long it would be until he could kill the king of kings.

He glanced to Dean and hoped he dreamed of fantastic things, sexy wondrous things and possibly unicorns. Because soon, he would need his brother to return to the battlefield; it was the Authority's turn to make their move, and he would be waiting, watching to counter it.


	33. Bring Warmth To My Bones

**((Hello everyone! I know I've only just put up a new chapter but I just couldn't leave my boy alone so I had to type up this newest entry. I sincerely hope that you all like it! Whilst it's a little shorter than others, it's one of my particular favorites! Please let me know what you think in the comments, I love reading them!))**

'Seth!'

He heard her before he saw her. Breakfast was immediately discarded into Dean's lap, and the man instantly started devouring all that lay before him. He hitched himself up in the bed, eyes toward the door, waiting in anticipation for the queen bitch of all vampires, possessor of his heart, his spirit, his balls and every inch of him in between it all. The bleak sky outside was grey, and the early winds howled against the glass, occasional leaves flew past. The bluster could not dampen his mood. He could hear her feet, that joyful skip, the run, the thrill of seeing her again. It felt like an age, too long, too many hours, so many days. Over a week since last he tasted her kisses and held her in his arms. The night before he'd had Dean to distract him, but even his beloved brother could not match up to her vicious lust. The man himself munched his way through toast, barely acknowledging the tension building in the room, hardly realizing that Seth tried to sort his thicket of hair out, tried to somehow look presentable in his hospital issue pajamas. Nor did he notice the quick haze of body spray Seth polluted himself with. Toast was an all consuming component in the world of Dean Ambrose.

But Seth could feel the hammer and anvil inside his chest, beating hard, the resounding force shook his entire body in excitement.

A leg slinked round the edge of the door, thigh length boots and black leather trousers. His mouth opened a little. He had to swallow the saliva down as she swept into the room, body pressed against the frame. Her midriff peeped out at him from under the thick black sweater she wore. Her hair was coiled, her eyes dark as the moon and eyes bright as stars. She'd brushed her lips sin red and things started to stir that hadn't in months; a hunger that couldn't be satisfied by food. There had been little he could do with Dean in the room at all times, and with his arm in plaster there had been no room for pleasuring himself. But he didn't want the feel of his own hand. He wanted _her_, every single inch of her, naked right then, right there. _And all you would be able to do is look at it, could hardly give her the wild sex she loves from a hospital bed. Half way through you'd probably accidentally knock her out with a cast..._

_Shut up thoughts_.

Paige promptly giggled and skipped to his side. He shuffled his body over and she eased herself next to him, her perfect ass mere inches from his groin. He was sure she could probably feel the heat coming off of him.

_Wasted desire Seth._

_Stop reminding me!_

_Fuck off brain._

'Hey baby,' she whispered, she leaned in, took his head in her two white hands and kissed him so deeply he thought she might drink his soul. 'Mama missed you.'

Was there any physical way of figuring out some kind of encounter right now? More to the point how to get rid of Dean...he could create a trail of toast...he could call Lucia and ask her to remove Dean and have him have his bi-weekly shower. That could work. Because whilst he loved the man, he wanted him gone; he wanted Paige. He wanted his woman to himself, to be lost in her exuberance...and to tell her off for doing something as fucking dangerous as breaking and entering into the _Game's_ house of all peoples.

She smelled incredible, she tasted better than he remembered, and when the kiss ended, she pulled him into a hug that plunged his nose face first into her cleavage. Was this where Narnia truly was? He could barely think of anywhere more fantastic and mind blowing than between her breasts, well...her legs maybe. _Stop it you filthy bastard. Hold the phone. Hold the thoughts. Think of cold showers and dead kittens, think of something, anything to stop your body doing something you might regret. No matter what you do, don't let **him **wake up –_

Too late, she damn well knew it as well, because when he was released from the perpetual tortuous heaven of her chest, she smiled. It was beautiful – the face of some kinky angel because she glanced down to where the bed sheets raised at his groin and playfully pretended to try and pat everything down again. Tingles shot through him, even to the limbs he didn't use as frequently.

'Deanie,' Paige cooed to him. He was hidden somewhere under a mountain of crumbs. The breakfast tray had been stacked high with hot buttered toast, berry porridge and fruit – all chosen and prepared by Lucia. He was rapidly beginning to believe she was more than a mere nurse, she held so much sway wherever she went. He would have to talk to the Spaniard when he next had a chance, but for now, he watched with thinly veiled amusement as Dean's ears twitched at his name, and his attention was finally won by the witchy white woman in Seth's paws.

'Babe!' he actually leaped up, bad leg and all and nearly tackled the girl off the bed. She laughed into his embrace and nuzzled his face affectionately. 'Hey look at you, you turned into a girl!' he kissed her mouth affectionately and felt his own lips as part of the wax transferred. 'Drat – hey Seth, do I have something round me mouth?'

Something? He had fucking _everything_. Oats, crumbs, lip stain. Seth shook his head, hardly able to contain the chuckle which threatened to erupt into an all out snort. But thankfully, Dean's clueless nature quelled the tightening in his pajama pants. For now. He had no doubt that as soon as he and Paige were alone, once more the blood would bolt straight back to his groin. He slipped a hand under the covers to try and rearrange himself whilst Paige fussed over Dean's now short hair.

'You look real smart Dean. Could stick you in a suit and everything, send you for a nice job interview. Make you an executive or some shit.'

'My first law would be all day breakfast food, boobs o'clock and therapy cockatoos every Thursday,'

'Have you been feeding him sugar Seth?'

Seth grinned, 'Naw, but I think he's more than ready to get back out and play again. He's been getting itchy feet. You should hear him in his sleep. He fights in his dreams and damn near hit me in the face as he sleep boxed.'

'I plead the fifth,' Dean announced, one hand pointing up in the air. But then, he relaxed, his excitement mellowed and he put himself back in the chair. 'Girl, for real though. Steph looks like she wants to do unspeakable things to you right now. Kinda hot.'

Paige turned in place on the bed and folded her legs, feet tucked under, hands on her knees. 'The woman gets on my tits.' She said bluntly, 'I've had enough of her bullshit. She hides behind her husband, or she hides behind the people she pays off. When I get her in that ring, she's got nowhere to run, no one to help her. I'll take my title back, and I'll make sure that it's a championship that's _defended_, not paraded around like some gigantic fucking earring.' She sighed, 'Wish they'd make a new belt...it's seriously the ugliest thing in the world. Whoever made it thought _oh it's for girls? Let's make it a fucking butterfly!_' she picked at her black nail varnish in annoyance. 'This whole 'diva' thing pisses me off as well. We're _women_ who _wrestle_, why's that so hard to grasp? Trish Stratus wore a _women's championship_, Lita...fuck...' she flicked a piece of the varnish at Dean who promptly caught it on his tongue and swallowed it down. 'Gross.'

Seth reached out and took her hand tenderly. She seemed surprised, but grateful for the gesture, and rubbed a thumb lovingly along the side of his hand.

'One step at a time girl; first we make you queen bitch again. Then, then we'll work on getting the ladies the respect they deserve. The women's locker is strong – strong enough to easily take out the sell outs.' He hated using that phrase. It haunted him till this day.

Paige nodded slowly, 'Yeah...yeah,' she picked now at a loose thread at the top of her boots before she looked over him. 'So...how you doing?'

'Oh you know, fucking dandy.' The words came out grumpy, but he squeezed her hand. 'No, seriously, I'm alright. The team here are great, and I'll be chasing your misbehaving ass before you know it.' He tried to spank her playfully, but the cast got in the way and he gave up. 'Speaking of which – _what the hell were you thinking breaking into the house of the Game_?'

Perhaps it came out worse than he'd intended, but how could it come out well? She pulled her hand free of his and knotted her fingers together, her face collapsed into a deep frown. 'Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize I needed your permission to have a little bit of fun whilst you're stuck in this room. I'm _bored_ Seth. Bored and in need of some kind of thrill. I know you can't help me with that right now. So I went for an adventure...and happened across an open door.'

'Open once ya kicked it in!' Dean chipped in. He earned a sharp glare from Seth, but shrugged it off. 'Hey man, give the girl a break. She got us hired again! Don' forget that!'

'Yeah well that kinda backfired...but we can work on that.' He muttered and put a hand on Paige's knee. 'Look...I'm sorry. You just scared the fuck outta me when you showed me where you were...what you'd done. I was proud but fucking terrified. You can't do it to me Paige. I need all the lives I've got left without you giving me a heart attack.'

She chewed the inside of her mouth before she smacked the hand on her knee, but then promptly laced her fingers through his, 'Yeah well don't go looking for excuses to be an arsehole alright? I got enough on my plate dealing with Casanova Reigns.'

'Yes he certainly looked like he was enjoying himself last night,'

'They're all over him.' she grinned, 'it's actually kinda nice. Thought the ol' boy would die alone at the rate he was going. But who knows? Maybe he might actually get laid for the first time in ten years.'

She shrugged, and then hopped off the bed, 'Right let's get you dressed.'

Seth blinked, 'Why?'

'Because I'm taking you out sir, we haven't had a date in months – years! This weekend, we're spending together, we're getting you out of this hospital, we're going to have some fun. I love you sir, and I miss you. I've already arranged it with the staff and your doctor. I have to return you tonight, but as long as I take full responsibility for you, and we take your medication with us, then we've been granted temporary leave.'

Seth's eyes widened in absolute wonder. He'd almost forgotten when the world outside looked like, how the air felt. His gaze flicked back to the window where the leaves blew and the tops of trees bent and buckled. It would be cold and he didn't have anything warm, but Paige seemed to have already figured out the solution to that. He'd not even noticed the holdall she'd brought in with her and dumped on the floor when she'd sat down. She crouched down next to it and pulled out all manner of warm clothes, sweaters, beanies, gloves, scarves, a coat. How she'd squashed it all in he didn't have a clue – Paige was notoriously a bad packer. He looked at each item in turn and allowed them to help him to the wet room to wash. Paige helped him dress whilst Dean picked the squashed remains of the grapes from the floor. He felt a little more human than he had for a while, and for a brief moment his thoughts moved to Daisy – the physiotherapist had weekends off, what would she think of him going out? Was he ready? He didn't know. But...as long as his girl was with him, he knew everything would be alright.

* * *

Memphis was such an incredible city. There was so much to see, so much to do and explore. Paige had even drawn up a crude plan so that they didn't miss a single thing. She didn't object once at having to push the wheelchair. Taxis took them from place to place. They explored Graceland, the home of Elvis, Sun Studio, they went to museums, ate food that warmed his soul and listened to incredible buskers on the streets. She took an endless stream of selfies, caring not for his gaunt face and body, uploading each so the world could see what they were doing, that they were together, united. He saw that each one, she ended with words of love. She even managed to talk a random stranger into taking a picture of the both of them, with her gently on his lap, arms around his neck, beaming. But in it, neither of them looked away from each other's eyes. Every minute they spent together intoxicated him more. He couldn't bear the thought of her disappearing from his touch at the end of the weekend. It felt like she'd only just returned to him after winters and summers and endless years away from her. How could time stretch out so cruelly? She bettered him, made him feel like something more than some unfortunate soul who had found himself trapped in a chair. His strength was beginning to return and he knew, as long as he pushed himself forward, onward, he'd stand and he'd walk and he'd run and he'd fight alongside his warrior queen.

Why was this June so miserable? Could they not have been blessed by kinder weather? In a lot of ways he didn't care. It felt so good to be outside, to feel the cool air against his skin, to feel the freshness of the air. It felt like it cleansed him the moment he left the hospital, months of bed rust and dust blasted away by the playful bluster. Leaves scuttled by the wheels of the chair and the soles of her boots, wrapped up warm despite the Summer soon arriving. And now, as she sat on a park bench, him facing her on that very Sunday, he couldn't take his eyes off her as she nibbled her way through an endless stream of _Nerds_. It was...overwhelming, what he felt for her. He couldn't say the exact moment when he knew he loved her...in some ways it felt like he had from their very first meeting. But it was more than that, as time went by, as she intrigued him further, he became entangled in her spider web and willing. But this was something stronger than lust, stronger than the bond between family. She tipped a pinch of the sweets into her palm and held them to his mouth. Obediently he allowed her to pour them in and he chewed thoughtfully. People bustled past not even noticing them. How could they not notice her? How could they not see her?

Being able to just sit and do nothing like this made him nostalgic for the days when he'd actively pursued her, when he'd asked her out for dinner, asked her to hang with him, anything he could think of. When she'd eventually relented after exhausting him, making him tap out to her powers, she'd told him all along she'd liked him, but she wanted him wok for her, make her feel just how much he liked her, wanted to be with her. The first night they'd made love had been one of the greatest nights of his life. Beyond the walls and the windows a storm had raged, heavy rain and a thunder drum caught the rhythm of their bodies, their love built to a climax after so much time dedicated to learning each other. He'd wanted to love her completely, know her fully. She'd let him in, and he'd never left the warm comforts of her heart. No matter her bad habits he loved her – even when she left half eaten bowls of cereal laying around, or that thing she did where if she accidentally got liquid eyeliner on something she'd let it stain. He yearned for her when she had gross colds, when she was in the grumpy throws of her periods, and when she drank juice from the carton. He cocked his head, and saw all these things about her, and felt something deep inside of him. A different kind of knowledge, prepared, understood.

'Do you wanna get dinner soon?' she asked absently as she tapped out yet more of the sweets.

'I think I want to marry you.'

At first he didn't think he'd actually said it out loud. She didn't respond, just looked at him absently. But then, slowly, her chewing stopped. She blinked, over and over.

'What -,'

'Marry me, Paige.' Yes, he'd said it out loud. His conviction was strong, and in that moment, sat in the street with Memphis moving by them, he knew, he wanted nothing more than her as his wife.

'You – you mean that don't you?'

'Pretty sure,'

'Oh my God. Oh my God. Yes, I mean God yes! Yes dammit yes! You, you incredible man,' she was on her feet, her mouth on his, the sweetest kiss ever created and it lingered and lasted forever. Kiss after kiss bruised his mouth, his hand in her hair, her fingers on his face. Pure joy, serene ecstasy, it swarmed through him, some beautiful plague. It enriched his blood and blossomed through his skin, he'd never felt so warm, so complete as he did in her hands. She paused in her kiss, eyes on his, she bit her lip, her smile true, beautiful and it completed him. 'Yes...' she rubbed her cold nose against his. 'Paige Rollins...I like the sound of that.'

He did too. He loved the sound of that. The elation inside of him could have brought him to tears. This good thing, this golden thing he'd nurtured through hell and high water was his most perfect achievement. Here, crippled in a wheelchair, a physical shadow of his former self...she still loved him, still wanted him. She didn't see his injuries, she didn't see his flaws...she just saw Seth. Gently she tucked his scarf a little tighter around his neck. She kissed his forehead. A rose, some incredible power, burned from where she touched him so tenderly with those smooth lips. He couldn't contain the love he felt, it softened his eyes, his features, every part of him consumed by her.

He had no ring to give, but she didn't care. As she took up position behind his chair once more and started to push him along the street, they paused at shop windows, peered through glass at the gleaming jem stones within. Fancy wasn't her style. But as they started back toward the hospital, something made her stop. A small jewelers, barely bigger than a box, with an ancient sign above the door. There, in its window, was a silver ring, a twisted black stone in its branches. Within minutes, the deal was done. The obsidian radiated from her ring finger. In mere hours she'd be boarding another plane, and leaving him behind once again. But it didn't matter anymore. She was his. She was going to be his wife.


	34. Under a Blood Moon

**((Greetings everyone! Today is the 1****st**** day of December! To celebrate my favorite month of the year, I will be updating this story every single day until the 22****nd**** of the month, as I will be returning home to my family on that date. So I hope you will enjoy the VERY frequent updates! Meanwhile I also hope that you enjoy this newest chapter, please review and let me know what you think as I love hearing your thoughts! ALSO: I would like to thank everyone for their incredible support, this story has reached over 16,200 views! THANK YOU SO MUCH!))**

The very thought of what might occur on Raw was one which kept him up that night. The swift departure of his Paige to the airport, back to Louisiana made him sad, made him restless, especially now as there was no Dean to keep him company. The Lunatic Fringe had acted of his own volition, had decided that he'd had enough of sitting by and watching his friends have all the fun. Cast and all he'd left the hospital on those wooden crutches, had gone to meet Paige on a plane to New Orleans. Who cared if his leg was still healing from life changing surgery? Who cared if he wasn't at full capacity? Heck, who gave a damn if he was ready for this or not? Dean certainly didn't, and so despite his worries and his misgivings, Seth knew he had to trust his brother's judgement. Out of all of them, Dean had shown near superhuman levels of healing, able to return to the ring within days of bumps that would lay some men out for months. Was it too early for him to go back? Maybe, but, in his own way, Seth had faith that Dean would be alright.

He had little choice to do anything but – half the Shield were thousands of miles up in the air. Seth was stuck in a hospital bed; like he always was these days. He was jealous, and not afraid to admit it. His friends, even with their injuries and problems had found their way back home. But he was still a mess of limbs and plaster. The medication they pumped him full of helped with the endless pain, but could do nothing to calm his burning spirit. He wanted to get back into the heat of the fight. He was healing well, really well. His progress with Daisy meant he was getting stronger, that he was gaining more mobility, more momentum...

Three months had gone by far too slow. He'd slept his way through the first and crawled his way through the second into the unsteady third. How long would it be before he'd be allowed to wrestle again? At the very least he knew it wouldn't be until the end of the year, and that was if he was given all the good graces and luck in all the world and universe combined. Luck – ha! Punk, when he used to roll through the lockers and the rings, would always say dismissively _luck is for losers_, that humans made their own fortune. And where was that cynical man now? Out of the WWE, happily married to his soul mate AJ and training for his next big challenge, the UFC. Seth had always respected Punk's attitude, the kind that demanded recognition for his hard work. Way back when he commanded the title, Punk had fought against the powers that be and no matter what they'd done to him, he bit back and made them realize that any war they attempted to wage against him, they would lose. The Shield almost felt like his spiritual successor now. They had that popularity, that cut throat mentality, the drive, the insanity which pushed them through the pain and the brass hoops.

They were that new rebellion people had been waiting for.

Seth's blurry eyes looked over his broken parts. Every day that drifted by he found he was regaining something – pieces he'd abandoned in his darker days. He'd spent so long playing the villain that finally being the man he was was an endless task. His brothers, his girl – they were helping him every single time. Maybe he wouldn't be getting back into that ring yet. But soon...soon he would be on a plane and he would infiltrate the walls with his brothers, with his fiance.

_Fiance__ – _yes_. _One day, somewhere among the chaos, he would whisk his Paige back to England, back to her native Norwich. He would finally meet her family. He would earn her father and her mother's favor, and would gain their acceptance and permission to marry their beloved daughter. The Knight clan were a proud family and rightly so. Their exploits were known around the world, and Paige's mother, Saraya was as formidable as her Amazonian daughter. He'd take her to church, he'd proclaim his love to her family, to God and all his witnesses. Would he limp his way to their wedding? Or would he stride toward his future? No, _their_ future.

Seth laid his head against those hypo-allergenic pillows, and allowed himself to sink into the mattress which had by now molded to his shape. Of the great many plans he'd made in his life, this was one of which he was justly proud. The life of a wrestler could be a lonely one, forever travelling, always away from family, from home, rarely able to form a pure and real loving connection with anyone. He smiled slowly to himself; yes this was a long road, yes he'd stumbled, fallen and broken a great many bones. But there were two things in the coming future of which he was completely certain: he would be WWE World Heavyweight Champion once again, and Paige would be his wife.

* * *

The Smoothie King Center in New Orleans was a full house, packed to the brim with cheering, crazed fans who'd all come just to witness what happened next in the chronicles of the Shield. The Raw pyro and fireworks welcomed them to the last Raw before that Sunday, when that golden briefcase that had last been used by Seth Rollins at Wrestlemania to win the championship which sat snug around the waist of Triple H, would be up for grabs once again. The six men had been chosen, all beaten bloody and blue at the hands of one another and the women's locker room. All over the world, people tuned in to see what was coming. The fireworks and opening theme ended as quickly as they had begun. The uproar turned to disdain as a guitar rift thundered, and _King of Kings_ echoed around the arena.

Here, there, the camera move across a sea of faces, each adorned with a mask of anger, of loathing. They hated openly and their rage burst from their mouths and in the waving of the signs that they held above their heads and waved furiously toward the stage, just waiting for that man to strut forward in his suit, to come to them and to mock them as he had endlessly for week after week. The constant stream of crap that came out of Triple H's mouth had caused many to boycott the shows, but had brought others into the fold, intrigued by what might happen in the end, determined to see the Authority get their comeuppance as they had the Raw and Smackdown before. They waited, and they waited, ready to unleash their collective wrath.

They waited. And they waited.

The song continued on, but that stage remained empty. The baffled faces of the commentary team, of the cameramen and photographers showed all was not going according to plan.

The Titanitron burst to life, a cameraman running, heavy breathed toward some kind of carnage unfolding back stage. But this wasn't right, this wasn't some cunning assault by the Authoritarian grunts on the heroes of the hour. There was panic in the mutters between staff members. Ahead of them were J&amp;J security, their smart shoes scuffed against the rough floor as they turned corners, as more and more members of the team joined the hurried parade down, down toward the parking lot. Screams, _shrieks_ that chilled to the bone, blood curdling shouts of terror and panic. The camera forced its way through a barrage of people, pointed toward the asphalt, to the prone bloody body that lay there, crooked, suit torn, heavy breathed, eyes wide, shock embedded deep in the creases of the skin, between the lines of blood that welled from the open wound on the forehead. Nearby, Stephanie cowered, face white as a sheet, eyes fixated in fear on her fallen husband, and then to the figure that stood over him.

Dressed in dark clothes that barely separated it from the shadows, a hood drawn up over the face, identity clustered into the folds of the fabric. The camera panned down, down to the taped up fists, to the right hand that clenched tight a lead pipe. The blood _drip, drip, dripped_ off the end into a crimson puddle on the floor. The attacker stared down at its victim, and then dropped the pipe onto the floor with a clatter, before turning on heel to leave. But security surrounded, a tight ring formed around the fallen and the standing. The hood cocked to one side, back slightly bent like an animal, fists raised, raw red. They stood possessed, ready to strike. The first security officer made to attack, swinging a hulking fist toward the figure, who moved, too quick, ducked around the punch and twisted, bringing an arm around the throat, a leg around the officer's and dragged them straight down to the ground. The man's skull rebounded and the attacker stood again, faced down the men who threatened.

'That move...that...that...' Stephanie stuttered just off camera. A shaking finger pointed toward the hooded figure, 'you, you can't be back!'

But there was no grand reveal. There was no throw back of the hood. The faceless one just stared loosely at her, before the attention was snatched as more security gripped a hold of arms, of body and of legs. The hood fought back with wild intent, kicked and butted and punched and bit, knocking man after man to the floor in blood thirsty frenzy. Cries of pain echoed around the lot, shreds of clothing hung in tatters. From every exit, from every door, more staff members clamored around and tried to get their hands on the beast. It wouldn't go down, it wouldn't surrender. Minutes crawled by, the camera tried to take it all in, tried to stay out of the way, but to get as much footage as possible. In the center, the crowd were silent, tense, the question hung over every single head, who was this?

Who could it be beneath the hood?

The beat down went on too long. Discomfort roused the audience. When too many hands held too tight, the fighter was dragged down to the floor, those taped up hands bloody and torn. Into shot Stephanie took shaky steps forward, her stiletto heels paused just in front of the jutting head. Manicured nails, sharpened to a deadly point reached down too slowly to where the hood peaked, and she tore it back.

The camera jerked sideways, hit the ground hard and skidded away. The screen cracked, but somehow kept recording the wheel of the parked limousine. Shouts, an endless tirade of swearing – a body hit the ground, just in shot. Another scream from Stephanie, the sound of her heels on the asphalt. Hands picked up that abandoned camera, and turned it toward a hooded face. Just one at first, then another, another, another, another until the shot was filled with the low peaks of a dozen black hoods. But the one at its head, the one who held the camera, the one with busted knuckles, with blood soaking the edge of the hood, held up one hand fingers together.

_Click_.

Another, shared by half of the hoods now.

The third from all of them.

All together, one voice, a deathly drone: '_Attention_.'

The audience lost their minds. Cheers, screams of adoration of approval. The euphoria spread like a tidal wave through the people. They left their seats, their hands in the air in praise and love. This was what they were waiting for, this was what they wanted. They'd waited so long. And now, now here was the moment they'd held out to see.

The head of the hoods raised that free hand to the hood covering their face, and pulled it back. Sweaty hair and bug like eyes bulged, the split lip and torn ear leaked blood but he didn't seem to notice. His smirk was crazed; thick pink tongue poked out and licked teeth. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at those who were at his back. One by one they pulled back their hoods. Familiar faces bloomed with bruised cheeks and cut brows, men and women bound together. There, at the front, Dean eyed the camera, Roman and Paige just behind him, their allies too.

'_We're not dead yet_,' Dean hissed. 'This is jus' a friendly lil' reminder tha' if a war is what you want Hunter, a war is what ya gots. We've got soldiers to spare. People willin' ta stand up and fight.' he turned the camera to where Triple H had laid, now gone, dragged away by his wife and a few still standing guards. 'And ya forgot somethin' real important. Somethin' tha' might just mean the difference between life and death – _I've been to hell already, and the devil spat me back out_.' He ran a frenzied hand through his dark hair and turned his arm to grip around Roman, pulling him close, bringing the camera above them all, to see just who was there, who was willing to see it through to the end. 'So come on, it's your turn, _make your move_.'

He dropped the camera. It landed hard, blacked out.

The centre was stunned. The commentary team dumbfounded. The carnage had been too much for some and several seats were left empty.

'_Well...' _Michael Cole tried to muster up some words to lead away from what had happened. Next to him, JBL and Lawler were flabbergasted. '_I think we can safely assume that change has been set into motion here on Monday Night Raw.'_ He paused and swallowed, '_I've just received word that Triple H is on his way to a medical facility after that brutal attack backstage by Dean Ambrose. His wife Stephanie has accompanied him, and has left command of the show tonight to Director of Operations Kane. Will he be able to restore some order? We'll be back after -,'_

But he was cut off as the camera flicked offline and commercials began. Minutes ticked by, far too long, endless campaigns trying to sell juice and vacuums. A pointless tirade of commercialism that was putting off the inevitable, stalling the insane carnage that felt like it was building to a fever pitch. Those in the arena, those who watched faithful on those screens waited with bated breath...what would come next? And then, finally, _finally_, Raw re-emerged onto the screen.

_Veil of Fire_, choir and threat and the red lights plumbed through the area. Thick red smoke plunged the lower levels into obsolete blindness. This was a rage unseen, Kane's fires sparked through the arena, the ring, the ramp, the stage, all seemed to be ablaze as the demon appeared. His eyes black as night, his face shadowed. The suit he wore seemed darker, more authoritarian. He stood motionless, and there was an unnerving stillness to the people, transfixed, and terrified of what the monster might say, might_ do._

'_Ambrose_,' it came out a curdled snarl, 'you honestly think, that what you've done will change things? Do you believe that your _minuscule_ band of outlaws can uproot the power so deeply buried in the foundations of this company? No matter what you do, your efforts will be for nothing. _The Shield are lame hounds limping through the dark looking for a place to die_.' The heat coming off the flames caused audience members to move back in panic. Kane did not seem to notice the thousands of human eyes on him. He did not feel the bodies in the room. He only felt the fires of hell. 'You may stand at the head of the flock but I know you are only a heart, a tangle of sinew and meat. _Reigns:_ the body, bone and skin. But lest we forget the false Shield, the witch who pretends to take the place of her lover, the true mind. The three heads of Cerberus can still be felled. You might have beaten down a king. But his rule is absolute.'

Kane paused. He _smiled_; a twisted abnormality that contorted his face.

'And as his enforcer, I feel it is my duty to avenge his assault. As such, tonight Dean Ambrose, to celebrate your vicious return, no doubt a statement of vengeance for what happened to your friend Seth Rollins, you will go through hell. Three levels of it to be precise, and all the while your friends will watch as you are ground into the dirt you were birthed from. But to make you truly understand just how futile your efforts are, for every challenge you fail, your friends will suffer. Their fates are in your hands Ambrose.'

Kane lowered his microphone. The pyro flared, and as the smoke cleared from the stage, the demon was gone.


	35. The Last King Of Hell

**((Welcome to day 2 of the 22 days of Ficmas! I hope that you all enjoy this newest entry! We're getting ever closer to 16, 500 views, so thank you everyone for your support! As always please let me know what you think, I can wait to read your comments!))**

There was thunder in the air and a storm gathering to a fever pitch between the walls. Every human heart could feel the tension, how the air evaporated from the room. They could sense what was coming was something more than a man facing Herculean trials; this was where titans would clash. Doubt lingered; Dean Ambrose was still injured, they'd seen it in the slight limp as he walked through the halls toward that stage, toward where he would be decimated once again. There was no entourage of hooded followers. The splattered tape that wound around his knuckles was taught and tired, but there was no exhaustion in his shining eyes. A beast had been awakened inside. You could near see the power flowing off of his skin with the sweat which ran down his arms and over his forehead. The temperature had reached a fever pitch that set off a cruel ringing in the ears. A collective breath was held in the chests of the thousands that watched that screen as he descended down, down through the stairs and through dust ridden doorways. The heat poured through every pore, it gathered at the nape of the neck. His hair dripped salt water into his eyes but he blinked it away, the muscles in his arms tight as the pipes crammed into the sweating walls. The floor inch thick with dust and grime pooled with under the boiler drums. This basement world was where the monsters came to play. A thousand eyes reflected the meagre light that tried to infiltrate the heavy dark.

These were the first minutes of a most solemn hour. They crept upon him, seconds ticking by as unsteady feet explored that old ground. One rough hand trailed over rust and metal, pipes that were bolted into place, brackets that splintered and those vast boilers. Here was a storage places. All around were instruments of pain and destruction. Dean's eyes saw well in the dark. He seemed unafraid, a far better creature than he was a man. His body crouched, his head swayed left and right, searching, seeking the enemy he knew awaited him in the bowels of the building. Above his head were those humans who desperately wished for his success. Where were his friends? Roman and Paige were nowhere to be seen. Was it they that Kane had referred to? Was it Seth, supposedly safe in his hospital bed? The demon had his devices and his plans were clear only to him. But Dean had easily been lured into the dark underbelly, and gleefully licked his dry lips in trepidation. He inched forward a little more.

'Here creeper,' he whispered, 'come to daddy,'

He stopped, ears twitched. Something was coming. The hiss and steam of the boilers had created a thick impenetrable mist. He twisted his body and hitched back against the pipes. They burned his hands but he didn't make a sound, as he disappeared into the haze. The cameras which had followed him tried to locate him, but all they could find was the sound. It echoed a heavy beat of metal against metal, that clang which made the blood sting. Ahead, coming through that fog, a dark figure stalked the boiler room. _Louder, louder_ _was that the heartbeat of arena?_ There was something serpentine about the lithe body, the twist of the neck, the turn of the torso, the way it crept forward, a beast stalking its prey. Its head, a knotted clump of strands of hair and fabric, the black face and white teeth, the open jaw that trailed down the throat disappeared down to the floor. Dean was nowhere to be seen. No life to be heard now, only the cameraman's heavy breath.

_A strangled roar which cut through the cruel silence like a cleaver gargled from the throat of the unseen force_.

Afraid, unsure, the camera moved forward through the mist, met face to face with maddened eyes and crooked head, black and red skin mottled like blood and tar. Its humanoid form did nothing to dispel what it was doing. Hands curled around the throat of Ambrose, tight pressure that bent his neck back over one of those metal pipes. The agonized hiss as the heat burned the skin on the back of his neck. He choked and taped hands scratched at the too strong arms that punished him. The blackness of the one who tried to kill him was enough to make him a heartless monster, one of the thousands at the disposal of _the devil's favourite demon_.

A misplaced buckle of a twitching leg caught the man's taut stomach, relaxed his grip just enough for Dean to slither out of his hands, to turn shoulder and swing from the hip. The blow collided with an iron jaw and the camera made out the smirk that came within the split second of the hit. Dean gripped the shoulders, brought his good knee to liver and gut, again, again, pushed the creature back enough for him to get some space. The Lunatic Fringe faced something new. Something he'd never encountered before. His hand felt the sore skin of his throat. Enraged he tore off the hooded jacket and tossed it aside, exposing how much muscle he'd lost, how thin he'd become. He was missing meat, and so much smaller than the carved opponent, who watched, silent, intrigued by what this little cockroach intended. Trapped in the boiler room, he was in the territory of a different kind of demon to who'd sent him down to the depths. Dean sniffed and cracked his neck between those hands of his. But the other didn't seem interested now, and stepped back into that haze.

'Come back here,' Dean snarled, and gave chase. He ploughed through the spotted fog, his only light from the camera. Littered all around were the tools of the insane and the sadists and he swooped a hand low to pluck a wrench from the floor, heavy, handy for bashing in skulls like the lead pipe he'd wielded earlier. He tightened his fingers around the handle, eyes narrow, feet progressing slowly. 'Come here creeper,'

He got his wish. The creature burst from the fog and slammed straight into him, took him down to the floor, the wrench spun from his grasp and slid across the floor under one of the boilers. Fists rained down on Dean's exposed head and shoulders. He bent an arm across his face to try and protect it. His free hand felt desperately for something, anything to beat the creature back. Instead all it could find was the tangle of hair and fabric falling from its head. So he gripped and he heaved – it came straight away from its brow, a very human like head beneath with short bristled brown hair. But the twisted demonic face didn't change. Somewhere within the paint was a pair of eyes. Bloodthirsty eyes that watched with glee as blood gushed from the nose its next blow broke. Dean snarled through it, grasped at the head with both hands and smacked his forehead against the creature's. It paused; dazed as Dean's hard head collided again, again, with audible crunch. It stumbled back on all fours, before it crept to a full stand. Dean staggered to his feet, his limp prominent from how the leg had twisted upon hitting the floor. The bleak dark of the boiler room was claustrophobic, closed in on both bodies, the heat perfumed the air with heady fumes. Dean threw himself forward, arm caught around the creatures throat, turned it and slammed the forehead against the exposed brick wall. _Again, again._ The first creeps of pain challenged the painted demon's face and it grit its teeth and it turned and thumbs plunged against Dean's eyes. He screamed and somehow, braced himself against the wall, wrapped his legs around the creature's waist. The thick hiss and sweating agony as he grasped hold of the nearest pipe seared his flesh but gave him the leverage to turn, to pull and swing the creature head first against the boiler drum. Cauterized hands, tape melted into skin he gasped in pain but knew he couldn't rest.

The creature was down for the minute, deep breathing, he needed a weapon. The wrench was out of sight and so out of hand. Eyes flicked around until they spied something leaned up against the wall. He struggled toward it, took the splintered wood of the mallet in hand and as the creature raised its head, he brought it crashing down. _Gone_ the hammerhead smacked the boiler drum, he turned – swung again, but hit only air. Atoms apart the other was faster, too fast. He couldn't hit the bastard.

'_Stay still,' _he hissed, chanced another swing, for to skim past the shoulder, scraping off skin as it did. Raw red and bleeding a little, the wound was enough confirmation to Dean. This was a human. It could be beaten. 'Come at me creeper!' he raised the mallet again, brought it down like Thor's own hammer for it to rebound off pipe rather than skull. Thick arms twisted around Dean's throat and the back of his head, intent to choke the life out of him. He gasped, he choked, hands clawed until the spark of an idea gripped him. Limp and all, he jerked his body forward, pulled with all his might and forced them both to the floor. The demon was quick to recover – from the floor, to the pipes, it moved with too much grace, brought both feet down to crash into Dean's exposed stomach. He doubled up in pain, the wind knocked out of him, he coughed and bent but as he did, as blood leaked through his teeth, his sweating head against the floor, he started to laugh. A hollow cackle that dove through the halls of the boiler room; it resounded around them, that power that he exuded had been swallowed whole by this demon, but just because he was burned didn't mean Dean Ambrose was done. He continued that delirious laugh, even as fingers caught in his hair and dragged him up from the floor, even as his face and teeth smashed against the nearest boiler drum. A bloody ivory stuck against it. But still that ever grin was plastered on his face, that maniacaught in the whirlpool of his eyes. Dragged away once more, he was thrown, a limp puppet against each wall, barely able to throw up his hands to protect his already wrecked face. But the more he bled, the more he laughed. The demon's smirk seemed too to grow with the bloodshed. Dean's hair was stretched as he was pulled through the halls, toward the more open area, his ass dragged along the ground gathering dust. By chance, his hand fell over something, busted fingers gripped around a handle.

He was dropped, head rebounded off the concrete floor, but all he could do was giggle. The creature hovered over him in the dark. There was the sound of something scraping along the floor, a metallic clang as a ladder was heaved into view. Dean's aching corpse twitched in its place as the creature opened and began to climb the apparatus. But as it reached the top, Dean turned, and flicked the switch on the handle he held. Painfully bright light shot from the lamp and straight into the strained eyes of his opponent. It let out an agonized yell, stumbled from the ladder and hit the ground hard on its back. Dust plumbed around it and Dean rolled over, torch raised above his head, ready to bring it down on the one below him, when he stopped, finally in the light he was able to see who he'd been fighting. His steely eyes softened. The claw like hands tried to block out the bright glow, and some of the paint had scraped from his face.

'Balor,' Dean stared at him, and slowly lowered the weapon.

Finn Balor: _The Demon King_. The man – though few really thought him human – had been recruited into NXT from his domination throughout the world in the wrestling ring. But the last he'd been seen was after he'd been beaten by Kevin Owens. Then...he'd gone. Vanished off the face of the earth; some thought he'd left the company, others thought he'd simply retired. But no, here he was, lost in the dark, down in the demon's depths. Slowly, Dean traced the torch light over the man he pinned down with all his weight. The make-up and body paint was blurred in parts, but it was impossible to miss the trails of deep set scars and bruises and cuts that trailed over his torso, his arms...and then his wrists, raw rings around them, burned in. Dean's eyes glazed; memories of what had happened to him when they'd snatched him from his hospital bed washed over. And as the camera focused in on the two men, it became clear to all that Dean didn't intend to finish the fight. It was clear what had happened to Finn Balor, that he'd been snatched away, kept out of sight until the Authority had use for him. Dean flicked off the light, and placed the torch back on the floor. In the meagre light left by the camera, he moved back, and held out a hand to Balor, and carefully, pulled him upright. Balor seemed confused by the kindness. Dean gave him a respectful nod.

'_Your first failure Dean Ambrose,' _Kane's voice suddenly echoed. '_For a man with many demons, you have been unsuccessful in killing the greatest of them all. How will you dig your way out of Hell, if you refuse to climb on the corpses left to be your stepping stones? Because of this, your friends will have to pay for your mistake. And the first will be...Seth Rollins._'


	36. The Death Of Me

**((Hello hello! Its day 3 of merry ficmas! I hope that you are all well and truly getting into the festive spirit! We've reached 16, 500 views which is absolutely incredible! Thank you to everyone who has made this a reality. Please enjoy this newest chapter and let me know what you think in the comments!))**

* * *

'_Your first failure Dean Ambrose, for a man with many demons, you have been unsuccessful in killing the greatest of them all. How will you dig your way out of Hell, if you refuse to climb on the corpses left to be your stepping stones? Because of this, your friends will have to pay for your mistake. And the first will be...Seth Rollins._'

* * *

What hit him first was the confusion. Had Kane meant someone else? Had he meant Roman? Seth wasn't anywhere near the arena, he wasn't in the same city, hell; he wasn't even in the same _state_. He blinked at the screen, saw Dean's own shock, and as the realization dawned over them both, Seth's expression turned to one of fear. He looked up, peered around his dark room. There was no one here; he was completely alone in the room. It was dark, the shift change over had already happened. The night staff were roaming the halls, a few faces he knew, whilst others were new to him. He didn't _feel_ unsafe. In fact, nothing about the night until this moment had felt wrong. But now...somehow he was more aware of how quiet his room was, how few and far between the staff had passed by his door. Seth swallowed and moved himself up into a proper sitting position on the bed. Raw was still playing on that open laptop, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean help the fallen Balor to his feet. As soon as he was up, _the Demon King_, let go of Dean's hand, and melted back into the shadows, as if he'd never been there. Left alone, Seth's brother, flabbergasted, peered around him, searched the room for the man who'd been there only seconds ago...but nothing. Instead, he turned his attention to the ceiling, to the cruel echoing laughter which carried through the boiler room. Frantic Dean started to follow it, back through the halls, white hot rage etched into his face.

'_Seth..._'

Eyes widened and he glanced around, feeling far too small, far too vulnerable. That voice hadn't come from the laptop. It was in his room. His skin tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms rose. On the laptop, Dean had near exited the boiler room. His eyes narrowed at the sudden light of the stairwell, a scratched arm up to try and shield his eyes. He stopped as the laughing started up once more, and as it had before, it echoed both from the screen _and_ Seth's room. Uncertainly, Seth pulled the covers away from his busted legs. Wooden crutches – Dean's own that he'd left behind – were propped up next to the bed. He gripped a hold of one as a weapon, before pulling the other to his aid as well. Unsteady, and knowing that Daisy would probably kill him for trying to walk unsupervised, Seth edged his way toward the end of the bed. He braced the crutches against the floor, shifted his weight, and moved forward, allowed himself to balance. He let out the breath he only just realized he'd been holding. The room, compared to the heat he'd seen in among the boilers, was freezing cold now he'd exited the covers. The light switch was only a few metres away, it wasn't too far. He could have just buzzed for a nurse...but somehow, for some reason he didn't want to...didn't _trust_ the idea of calling someone.

'_Keep looking Seth..._'

Kane's voice taunted him. He knew the demon himself couldn't be there. He'd seen him mere moments ago on the screen, all the way in New Orleans. There was no physical possible way for it to happen...but all the same...he knew that the voice was in the room with him. He searched every corner, nook and cranny, but there was nothing. Nothing alive at least; he was the only breathing thing in there. The rest was completely unanimated. Another glance to the laptop saw that Dean had encountered trouble on the stairs, attacked by people that Seth was too far away to see, especially without his glasses which he'd foolishly left behind on the table. He swallowed to try and wet his throat. This was ridiculous; he was allowing himself to be manipulated by simple scare tactics. There was no one there, nothing to hurt him. It was just plain old paranoia, just some scheme to make him do something stupid which could result in him getting himself hurt. He should just quietly get back into his bed to try and keep track of Dean's progress. Yes, that was the sensible thing.

He turned around.

Someone stood in his doorway.

'_You know Seth, you and I, we have some unfinished business,_' the shadow mused. '_A few months back, we both saw a dark day Seth. Oh the moon was high and the skies were dark and all you could hear were the caws of the people who thought they were gods_,' for a few moments it paused, a thick hand stroked what looked to be a beard and Seth felt the uncertainty slither into dread. He knew who waited for him, who watched from the door. How could he have been so stupid? '_I saw what they thought, and I challenged the titans, only to find that I'd fallen for folly and allowed myself to be cut down by a man; a beaten down, broken, man_. _And they flocked to you, the disappearing man, they surrounded you and tried to touch you, but you were nothing more than an infected memory. They love you Seth, and tell me, why is that? You speak only of glory where I speak truth! I could lead them in the wake of buzzards to a new dawn when all you can give them, is early dusk._'

'Wyatt, stop this. I have no quarrel with you,' Seth edged back a little. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. His only escape was blocked by the shadow man. He didn't have the capacity to try and take him down, to throw himself into a fight. He was barely managing to stay upright. There was nothing he could do, no one to help. And the Authority had known that. They _must_ have known – must have had eyes somewhere to jump the second his friends were gone and there was no one to protect poor, vulnerable Seth Rollins.

'_Oh but Seth, it is I who has a quarrel with you_...'

His phone was out of reach. The alert button was nowhere near his grasp. Lucia had left to return to the hotel she was staying at until the time came for her to transfer once again. The night staff? He couldn't see anyone in the halls. Wyatt knew this. He could see, he knew that there was no one to save him. He moved closer, his head cocked to one side, his straw trilby squint. But Wyatt certainly wasn't alone. Two thick set shadows advanced down the corridor to come through that doorway. They were so vast in height and width that only one could fit through at a time. Wyatt had brought his family to the ball. Seth tried to back away, moved the crutches too quick and near fell, but somehow managed to stay on his feet.

'_You can try and run and you can try and hide but you know in the end we'll find you. We always find what we want. For we are guided Seth, guided! We feel your fear, we feed on it, and I know the taste of your vulnerability, because the child inside of you met me months ago. You were scared of me then Seth; tell me, what do you feel now_?'

Seth considered throwing one of the crutches as the approaching Wyatts, but knew that would leave him unsteady. But he couldn't just stand there and allow them to hurt him further, allow them to take him or what other nefarious plans that they had planned for him. He doubted they would be kind – after all, Wyatt had seemingly conceded to working for the Authority, just for the small taste of revenge that he would be allowed. Luke and Rowan simply stood at their leader's back, waiting for the killing order.

Now no longer a silhouette, and close enough to _smell_, Wyatt smiled, and the shadows advanced on Seth...

* * *

With a sickening crunch, Dean's jaw hit the wall. Stars, such pretty little twinkling stars, flashed in front of his eyes. He blinked; a line of drool ran from the corner of his bloody mouth. The fingers knotted in his hair tugged him back, slammed him again. There were more than a few screws rattling loose in his skull, and he felt the thin scar down the back of his head tighten. Oh they'd hit him like a hurricane, but he knew that this was another trial, just something to try and stop him escaping the boiler room. They wanted him to suffer and they wanted him to fail just so they could torture his friends.

'C'mon boys,' he growled against the plaster, 'tha' all you got?'

As a response, hands were on his shoulders and threw him to the floor. He hit it wrong, hard, twisting that bad leg once more. Pain seared through his knee and hip and he was unable to stop the strained snarl from escaping. Above him, a thick set man in an expensive suit gave him a smug grin. His hands were neatly folded over his large gut, his shoes were bright from polish until Dean's red spit smeared their shine. His large face seemed to melt into his neck, and the thinning hair which splintered from the sides and the back of the head reminded him of a porcupine. But there was a name by which he was better known. Even as the fat man gave a sharp footed kick to Dean's ribs, he rolled onto his back, his own cocky smirk welded into place.

'Walrus can't kick for shit,' more bloody saliva dripped from his mouth. He spat it once again, this time hitting the pant leg.

The swift response came seconds later. This blow like a rock from a mountain top, thrown by _the Beast_ himself...he stood over him, and those tiny black eyes focused in on every weak spot in the frail mistreated body of Dean Ambrose. That leg, which would be so easy to break again...but why go for the obvious target? The boot that hit his groin crushed any and all glory Dean had once had, but the instinctive curl of the body had protected him from complete loss of testicle. The swelling of his crotch puffed his face beetroot red, his eyes watered and he could barely scratch out a wisecrack.

The _pain_: every single man in the audience felt it, and the roar of disapproval could be heard from where Dean lay in that small ball on the floor. But agony couldn't stop him, he couldn't let it. If he just lay down and accepted defeat, if he didn't win by the rules of Kane's game, people would get hurt. Every single person in the building knew the stakes. What of Seth? They'd left him unprotected; they'd left him all alone in that hospital. It wasn't kind, it wasn't fair. They'd all been left as food for the animals. Dean knew what happened. He'd experienced it. He'd seen it in the eyes and scars of Finn Balor. Nothing that Brock Lesnar could inflict on him would compare to the blinding agony that they'd failed to protect Seth. Above him, _the Beast_ and _the Walrus_, satisfied their job was done, made to leave. Heyman muttered something derogatory, and made to step over Dean as a final insult.

But Dean Ambrose was no doormat. He shot out a hand and gripped a hold of Heyman's pant leg, dragged it tight and pulled. There was so beautiful poetry in the motion of the fat man falling face first to the exposed concrete of the floor. The squirm as he realized there was no escaping the clutches of _the_ _Lunatic_. Dean, half crazed and bloody eyed from burst vessels, crawled over Heyman's blubber, straddled his back, seized his tie in hand, and _pulled_. The wheeze that came from that warbling throat was delicious; the bulbous eyes that near matched Dean's own where they bulged from his head. Lesnar had made it half way down the corridor in the split second the attack happened. Dean pulled harder, forced Heyman's back to bend so that the man's face and torso became his shield. His teeth were grit together so hard he could feel the remaining bones splinter in places, crack and his own body threaten to fail but he held on, licked his lips and eyed Lesnar who charged toward him.

'No! No!' Heyman tried to ward him off, and waved a flailing hand in cease and desist. 'Stop!'

'Ya know I reckon ya should listen to yer boy Heyman Mr Beastie. He seems kinda smart,' Dean buckled his head forward and ran a slimy tongue over the side of Heyman's sweating face. 'Tastes kinda smart, musta eaten a lot of books to be so clever.' He tightened the tie and relished the pig like squeal from Heyman.

Lesnar's muscled bulk rippled threateningly. His forehead had creased to a deep set frown, his eyes near on fire with annoyance at the puny insect that dared to intervene with the voice of _the Beast_. He came closer, one heavy foot at a time, and with each, Dean increased the strength of the make shift noose. It was only when Heyman turned a dangerous shade of beet that Lesnar stopped. He was meters away, if Dean let up even a little, he knew that he'd be a gruesome pulp on the concrete.

'See, way I figure it is there's rules I don't know to this game, and but Kane is tryin' to be clever. So he sends me ta hell to fight a demon, and then a beast, so what's next?' he released one hand, counting who'd encountered on his fingers. 'Cos the only thing I can think of is Mr Red himself,' he heard the approving cheer from the audience floors above him and nodded, 'but I can't be lettin' any more friends get hurt. So I propose we has a deal,' he rubbed Heyman's bald spot lovingly, 'you back off, and you can has the fat man. Or, you can try and kill me, but I'll rip Heyman's head off his shoulders before ya even get _close_.' Dean smiled something wicked, and with his missing teeth, it was terrifying. 'Ya might be _the Beast_, but _I'm Dean Fuckin' Ambrose_, and I taken down bigger dragons than you. I survived worse odds and dead days and lookie here I's still tickin'. Ya might come back fer me Beastie...but I'll be ready fer ya, an' I'll eat ya alive if ya stop me from keepin' my family safe.'

Heyman spluttered and bucked. Fat man had a lot of fight in him. Everyone knew, that without his precious advocate, Lesnar was nothing more than a machine. Heyman was the hype and he was the man who played with pretty words and he built up a man to be a _god_. Heyman kept him in check and let him loose to prey on the weak and the stupid. But Dean wasn't stupid. He was _mad_. A raw and dangerous thing. _Madness was a disease that could spread through every neuron_, _it birthed unpredictability, psychosis and gave him power_. Dean could wait, and reached his jaws forward, and bit down on Heyman's exposed ear.

The scream stopped Lesnar, made him finally step back a gargantuan pace. Then, his face red from the rage that made him unstoppable, he nodded. One slow, solitary nod which gave Dean another twenty four hours of life; there was no mistaking it though, Dean Ambrose was a marked man. Lesnar would hunt him down to the end of time, until that moment where he could shatter him into a million bloody pieces. But that was fine. Dean could run, he could fight like a lion backed into the last hazy savanna corner. Bloody eyes and bloody teeth smiled at the unspoken threat. He released Heyman, who felt straight forward again; hand to his neck, trying to loosen the tight knot the tie had been pulled into. Dean was up from the floor, and he edged past Lesnar as quick as his lame leg would allow him. As he hobbled up the corridor, back toward the arena, where the stage and the ring and the audience waited, he felt the dark thud in his head of concussion threatening to set in. _No, you got Roman you won't get me_.

'Argh,' frustration slammed his own fist against the side of his head repeatedly until he had to stop, to rest his body against one of the walls.

'_I suppose I should applaud your ingenuity Ambrose. But don't be mistaken, I'm sure you will be made to suffer for your impulse. You may have passed this second trial. Rest assured however, Mr Rollins will receive his punishment for you first failure. But I get ahead of myself; you have one last opponent to face. And this one will be the real killer_.'

'Fuck off Kane!' Dean spat and rubbed his sore mouth on the back of the strands of tape peeling away from his hand. 'I've had enough of your games! Come out big man! Come and fight me!' he pushed off from the wall and stood there, arms held out in the middle of that corridor as he walked as fast as his repaired leg would allow, progressing closer, closer to the Gorilla position, to where he could burst out onto that stage. He'd been alone for this, his allies sent away by him so that they were not so easily hurt. Every single one of those black hoods had made their case to help him, to stay. But he'd rejected every single one. Paige and Roman would be too easy to target after the assault on Triple H. Seth wasn't the only one who could make plans.

'_Your insolence is almost admirable. But I think I shall make you wait, make you hunt for your own demise. It'd be too easy to dismantle you now. There's still much of Raw left. I don't want to leave the audience unsatisfied. Keep hunting Ambrose. You'll find your opponent eventually.'_

Dean's fingers curled into quaking fists. A single, shrill scream of frustration echoed through the arena and the Titanitron faded to black.


	37. Behind The Door

**((Day 4! Hope everyone is doing alright! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews so far! I just love reading them and they really spur me on to bash these chapters out! This has been a particularly fun one for me to write today and I really hope that you enjoy it! As always please comment and let me know what you think of this newest update!))**

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The _stench_ was enough to make him gag. Somewhere in the dark recesses of the vehicle something moved, little legs scuttled all around him, no doubt drown in by the smell of dying flesh. Insects, he could feel them clamber over his legs. His head rested against cold metal, eyes closed, his skull throbbed to unnatural drum beat. The frozen air beyond the truck curled through to where he curled up, battling for any warmth he could nurture. Around him, he could hear things shift and slide along the back, and above him, things swung back and forth, hitting into one another with a soft _thump_.

Wheels spat back stones from the black top, and the melted smell of the old engine mixed with decay made is nostrils pinch. His breathing was shallow, through his clogged, poor nose, and back out. Everything hurt, his still healing bones and fractures pulled and twisted in directions that he couldn't adjust. He drifted in and out of reality, caught between the life as he knew it and that terrifying nightmare realm the Wyatt family came from. They'd snatched him from that hospital without trouble. No one had tried to stop them – no one would have dared. There were no cops with roaring lights behind the truck he'd been stuffed into. He doubted anyone even knew. Come the morning, the only person who would walk into his room to check on him would be Lucia. Poor, sweet Lucia, how would she react knowing yet another of her Shield children had been taken? She'd followed them to protect them...

He swallowed and tried to ease himself up. His hands were twisted behind him, his vision blocked by the darkness and blur of his useless eyes. The least the fuckers could have done was abduct his glasses with him. At least then he could have had some equilibrium. He shuffled, braced his back against the side and heaved himself into a sitting position. From what little he _could_ see, he appeared to be in the back of a truck. The sounds from the ceiling looked to be the carcasses of wild rabbit and pheasant. But that was all he could make out. He had the feeling that he wasn't completely alone though, and through squinted eyes cast to the opposite corner, he noted what looked to be a very tired old mongrel dog. It didn't make a whole lot of noise and until it moved its grey dashed head he'd thought it to be dead. What a strange thought, that people like the Wyatts would have animals...but then, he supposed it made sense. Through all Wyatt's ramblings through the years, he'd made mention of beasts more than humans. He didn't know where they could be heading: the compound upon which the cult made their home was known to exist, but only those in his inner circle knew where it resided. He imagined it to be in some vast wilderness, surrounded by endless dead woodland and quagmire. The very thought made him sick. He was away from the medication which kept the pain at bay, and whilst he didn't know how much time had passed, he could already feel the agony tensing in his limbs. He bit down hard on the gag they'd tied around his mouth and felt any terror he had turn into grating annoyance.

This was just inconsiderate.

Was he afraid of the Wyatt family and what they might do to him? Yes. He would have been stupid not to be. But the frustration of the situation was enough to override all else. This was being done to just mess with Dean. Bray Wyatt may have had beef with him – but for the strike to happen now, during Raw when his friend was vulnerable, when they all knew he was alone. But who'd given the game away? Now that was a question...someone must have been watching them, must have known that Dean had flown out the night before. Just how long...had someone been spying on them, _on him_?

He could swallow down that cold hard nugget of truth later though – the truck had stopped.

Seth turned his head to try and make out better what was going on. The do nearby had raised his head a little, tired eyes barely wide enough to see anything at all. It yawned and licked at its maw, sharp yellow teeth and all before it closed its mouth once again and finally seemed to notice the man who shared the back with him. Seth could hear doors slam and tried in vain to struggle back, back away from the doors. His breathing was too heavy, his nose blocked by the dust. The mongrel watched him with bored interest before its ears perked at the sound of footsteps coming closer, closer –

The door opened and Seth was blinded by immediate bright light. It stung his sore eyes. Frozen air hit him with the force of a thousand bites. He tried to block out the burning white by closing his eyes, but still through his lids he saw ever changing colors, like he was staring unblinking into the sun. Even through his nose, his breath clouded on the air, his body shivered uncontrollably. A sharp whistle drove the dog from the back of the truck, out past the men who barricaded Seth in. Large, hairy, disgusting hands burst through the light, gripped hold of his plastered up leg. The pressure exploded and pain shot through him. He tried to kick out, tried to buckle from their grip, but as soon as he'd gained some form of upper hand, they grabbed his ankle and_ heaved_. Seth's body snapped back and hit the metal floor, crushing his poor hands beneath his weight. He could do nothing as they pulled him out, as he was slung over Harper's burly shoulder and walked away from that truck. Though the haze of his eyes he could just about make out tree trunks, his nose smelled firewood, and ears, well his ears heard the lulls of the evening and the dusk.

His head bashed against Harper's sweaty back. How could he be hot enough to sweat? But then, he could question, why such bitter cold at the start of the summer? Tennessee was a sweet state, sickly sweet in the heady summers and cruel in the winter...but, he supposed, as they entered through a door and into some sort of makeshift shack, that maybe it was just the shock of the air and the thinness of the pajamas he'd lived in for months. He'd spent so long indoors...he just wasn't used to the freshness of the air anymore. Why was he even thinking about this right now?

So much for a brain which could move at a million miles an hour when it couldn't even concentrate on how to get out of this mess, and only focus on the weather. There was something screwed up about that.

'_Put him down_,' Bray's voice was soft against the lantern light. '_Take away his bonds, there's no where he can go anymore_.'

Obediently, and almost tenderly, Harper placed Seth on the floor, among warm, sweet smelling hay which immediately felt twenty times safer than the truck had. With a flick of a switchblade, his hands were cut loose, the gag pulled away from his mouth and to his utmost surprise, his glasses handed to him. Seth blinked and his eyes watered as everything came into sharp focus. He gazed around him in complete confusion. This was nothing like the rancid shack he imagined the Wyatt's to reside in. There was something almost..._homely_ about the place. The floor walls and ceilings were all old wood, but the ground was covered with dozens of handmade rag rugs, the walls had old dusty frames with equally ancient pictures hanging in them. One in particular caught his eye, and it hung directly above the stone fireplace near him. Logs had been tossed on the fire, and over it looked to be a pot of some sorts. Meaty smells came within and dear God it smelled _delicious_.

Bray Wyatt sat in that precious rocking chair of his, _back and forth, back and forth_, jutting from his mouth was a pipe which he puffed on at intervals. When he seemed to notice Seth's attention on the stew pot, he actually smirked and nodded to Rowan, who'd stood guard at the door.

'_Feed the man Rowan, after all, we may be animals, but we are not the monsters_,'

Seth was far too confused and far out of his depth to question him. Within minutes, piping hot, mouth watering stew full of vegetables and game was handed to him in a bowl. He ate without fancy, and as he did, he glanced further around the room. It was cosy, comfortable and looked like a great many hunting lodges did. Hell, if he'd known nothing else about the Wyatt's he would have assumed this was just the life style they lived. But then he remembered Bray was a supernatural cult leader and he began to eat far more slowly, suspicious once more. But the man didn't interrupt him once as he had his fill, instead, waited, patiently, not like a man possessed, but a polite member of society in a moth eaten Hawaiian shirt and blood stained pants. Finally, when the last of the stew had been swallowed, and warmth infiltrated his bones, Seth, exhausted, rested against the hay and wall and looked at the portrait above Bray's head once again. A beautiful woman was frozen in time, rook black hair, pale skin and wild eyes.

Wyatt glanced up, through the pipe smoke, '_So you see her at last, our Sister Abigail who forever watches us_.

'Why am I here Bray?' Seth's eyes flicked to all exits. Harper was at one, Rowan at the other. Bray was right; there was no way for him to escape. Rope wasn't necessary to stop him if there was nowhere to go. 'What happened between us in that ring, it was a match I had to win.'

_Puff puff, puff puff. _

'_When I was a child, and I wandered through these woods I cried, and I cried for someone to come and to take me into their arms and to tell me that all the wilds in the forest were just noises. That there was nothing to be afraid of. She came, she found that poor boy in the woods and she brought me into her home, like she did every one of us, and she told us stories about gods and monsters and humans and animals and from her, I learned the difference between being a good man, and being what was needed.'_

Seth stared at him, one eyebrow raised. Bray however didn't seem to care and continued in that sage voice of his:

'_And in the end, oh in the end, we do what we have to, to make a better world. A world where everything is bright as the moon in the night and every snake and every wolf are tamed and we no longer have to be afraid of whistles in the dark. She lived and she died burning the things that we didn't need in those flames. Love, compassion, these things you treasure so deeply have not saved any of you Seth.'_

He wasn't wrong.

'I have faith in my friends that they can and will win this fight. Whether I'm there or I'm not I know that they're strong enough to save themselves and battle against people who will do whatever it takes to win. Men like you Wyatt.'

Bray laughed at that. He leaned forward in that rocking chair and pointed the tail end of that pipe at Seth. '_And that, that Seth is where you're wrong_.' the pipe went straight back into his mouth and gestured for Harper and Rowan to come forward. They went to his side without question and he laid his hands on their arms, joining them together in some unholy trinity. '_You see Seth, we stand united and together we fall. And we have fallen, from her grace and down into the hell she promised for every human who didn't turn to the truth. We have abandoned all good to be what we need. The world needs its animals and it needs its heroes. We are the beasts who snap at children's dreams, and you – you are one of the hounds who bite back.'_

This almost sounded like he was being praised but he couldn't be sure. Maybe it was the exhaustion taking him over, maybe it was the wood smoke wearing out his body, or maybe he'd just received one too many knocks to the head...but he just couldn't understand where Bray was going with his monologue. He knew there would be a point to the insane ramblings, somewhere in the bones of it all.

'_Your friends are hurtin' Seth. Your Dean Ambrose, he done complete the demon's trials. I will have time for him in her house. She will approve of him and she will love him and he will come to her lap in time. His mind has already been taken by the flames and one day we will return him home. But for now, for now you have come through my door and I will deal with you. Look at you, you're nothin' more than ash and bone when last I remember you were rabid, a beast that tore meat down to the splinter and you were fast like the dark in the light. Now you lay there, on my floor, with the dogs.'_

'I hate to point this out to you, as you clearly have not noticed, but I broke a lot of bones that night.'

'_And not all of them were yours. The wilder ones fight to the death like your Dean Ambrose, like you, Seth Rollins did that night_. _There is a shadow in your heart and I can see it. To be the strongest, to survive we all need a little darkness...that's why Abigail chose you_.' Bray looked up once more to that portrait.

_Chose me?_ Seth frowned, and then, as he stared at that picture he took off his glasses. Then, everything fell into blurry faced place. 'Paige? You think Abigail is Paige?'

_Rock, rock, puff, puff_.

'_Is she not your dawn and your dusk_? _Is she not the truth among all the lies? Is she not the knee you beg at, the feet you worship and the hand you kiss? Would you not feed her if she were sick, would you not give your soul to replace hers as she lay dying in front of you? Does she not possess you when you are in her presence, and when she has gone, do you not miss her evanescent drug?'_

He could hardly deny what Wyatt was saying was true. True down to his very core and fiber; but what Bray was thinking of was a woman he remembered from his childhood. Sister Abigail was dead and gone, Paige was young and very much alive.

'_She is the mortician to your god. She makes you hunger and makes you proud and jealous of men you love. She drives you to madness for her flesh. Her screams make you a wilderman_.'

'Enough Wyatt.' Seth snapped. 'Just what are you trying to tell me, and why am I even here? Just so you can sit there in all your damned glory and preach to me? I love her, yes, I do, if that's what you're trying to get at.'

Bray gave him a wide, toothy grin. '_And love makes monsters of us all. You've been sleeping too long Seth Rollins. I want to see the beast that defeated me, that terrorized titans...so that when you are complete once again...I can cripple you, I can end you. To kill the weak is to show mercy, and I have none. Consider this a warning, Seth Rollins, like your Dean Ambrose, when you are fat on the spoils of war and the bodies of your enemies, I will come for you.'_

'Get strong. Win things, die at your hand. That doesn't seem like much of an incentive Wyatt. You need to work on your sales pitch.' Seth muttered, but there, on the floor of the madman's hut, he knew, that he was right. He'd shown more fight and determination in the past few hours than he had since he'd landed in hospital in the first place. Calamity seemed to make him stronger. The promise of marrying Paige had brought him hope. Knowing that his friends were back in the fold gave him determination. All of these things, wrapped in a straw bundle by the Wyatt fireside, made him look the cult leader dead in those unblinking eyes. 'But I promise you, when the time comes for you to make your move, you won't be laying a hand on Dean, on Paige, none of us. I don't belong to you. None of us do. So maybe you should take your own advice, because if you threaten me or my friends again, the safest thing to do will be to _run_.'

Finally satisfied, Wyatt nodded once again to Harper. The giant heaved Seth up from the floor with that massive hand. '_Escort Mr Rollins to a room. He will be our guest tonight_.'

Seth's violent protests fell onto deaf ears. His shouts and his attempts to flee were silenced at the closing of the door. Wyatt remained alone in his quarters and watched as the flames died in the fireplace. '_Soon sister, soon we will have our glory. I've done as you've wished, and the last remnants of the old kingdom will die in your inferno. He'll do as you ask of him for he knows your love_.' Wyatt's eyes glanced to the ceiling, hearing the thud of Harper's footsteps and Seth's continued protests. He placed his pipe back between his teeth, and smiled.


	38. Hound To Hound

**((Greetings friends! Here is day 5 of merry ficmas! I hope that you enjoy it, and as always please let me know what you think! 3))**

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Beyond the cracked window was endless darkness; a twisted woodland that stretched as far as the eye could see in any and all direction. He could press his face against the glass and just try to spy some sign of human life beyond the Wyatt's walls, but all he was met with was a greased cloud of his own breath. The loft had been used for storage for decades, had fallen into ultimate disrepair. All around the old bed frame lay goods of all shape and size; he saw tools and he saw traps, bundles of animal furs and bones...all the signs of a life of solitude. How they'd ever come to the wrestling world would no doubt be an endless mystery. Harper, he knew, had made a name on the extreme circuit, as Dean had. Bray's history was a blank slate, as if someone had taken an erasure to his life. They knew only what he revealed in his sermons, and even then only what could be decoded from his cryptic words.

It felt like he was at the edge of the world, too far from civilization, stuck in a past that could never move beyond a primitive nature. Against the brazen moon, he saw birds free to go where they pleased, and envied them. He heard animals call to one another in the dark, and the cold, endless whistle of Harper as he stood guard outside of his door.

And so he lay on that wretched old mattress and stared up at the cobweb patterned beams. For all the frozen beauty outside, he could feel nothing but the quiet rage that bubbled just under the surface. When he'd been dragged up those stairs, when he'd been thrown onto that bed, he'd almost seen sympathy in Harper's eyes. Almost – before it disappeared with the closing of the door. Was this his payment for all the punishment he'd put himself through? Was this his reward for being the determinater and pushing through the endless boredom and customary pains just to stand and fight and do it all again? Wyatt had pushed buttons down in the den, had poked holes in the thin veneer of confidence Seth had re-grown and now...now he was just pissed off. He'd simply moved from one prison to another, this one far less hygienic and definitely not conforming to any standards beyond 'fucking dusty'. He was more than moderately tired of being helpless: three months of lying under sheets and waiting for pain killers had grown tiring. He wanted to be back out with his brothers, laying waste to the scourge and the evil tyrants who might try and knock them off the mountain and down to the pits below. Perhaps it took being taken to the Wyatt Lot to really understand the position he was in. No matter where he was, in a hospital, in a chair, in this rotten place – he was trapped, a prisoner of his own body.

Wyatt had said a great many strange things. His intent to destroy him was matched equally with a bizarre determination to _save_ him. Wasn't that what Wyatt was all about at the end of the day with all his preaching and his sermons in the ring? A warning to the people of what would come to them if they continued down their course of life, that if they turned to him, the true saviour, they would be protected from the devastation and hell that would be unleashed to cleanse the earth of the unworthy. For years he'd presumed Bray Wyatt a simple mad man. But now, now he saw it all for what it was. The cult leader wasn't made at all, but believed every single word he said with bloodthirsty vigour and conviction. He wanted Seth to recover, wanted him to get better, become stronger so that in the end, he could cut down something worth destroying, something worth his lifelong devotion. Why him? Perhaps it was because of every confrontation they'd shared throughout their time as rivals, as enemies...he could respect that idea. He could respect Wyatt for his struggle to save the world in his own twisted way. But those ideas, like the man himself were dangerous, too dangerous...

He could have been insulted too, at Wyatt's insistence that his current state was only worth his pity. If he'd have battled until he was dead against the likes of Triple H, he had no doubt he would have left the ring under a white sheet and his friends would have been visiting a grave rather than a hospital bed. Had it not been for Paige throwing in the towel, who knew what could have happened?

Paige...

If he wasn't so sure all his senses were working he could have mistaken this all for some subliminal dream. Paige Knight was a young woman, alive and vibrant with such wild energy he often couldn't handle it, and he loved that about her. Sister Abigail, was dead, burned down to ash and no doubt kept in a nice pot on a shrine somewhere in the house. But somewhere in the vast, mistaken mind of Bray Wyatt, the two had met and merged into one woman. They were similar in appearance, that Seth could not deny, and his love for her no doubt was matched by Wyatt's devotion to the dead woman. It was...a sobering thought, to adore something so strongly, that even after their passing, you would worship their spirit to the point that you could believe they had been born again. But what had triggered this? Before now, Wyatt had never shown any interest in Paige, in Dean...in any of them. Like the forming of the _Shield_, he had his brotherhood, his family, kept close, knot tight and loyal until death...but he did not have his Abigail as the _Shield_ had Paige. She was the very last piece of the puzzle for the_ Hounds of Justice_, but seemingly for the family, for Bray Wyatt as well.

As much as he tried to understand it, he didn't like it. He hated it. The mere thought was enough to add more fuel to his already white hot fire. The references to his friends...the intrigue in Dean, it all brought forth the same emotions as the _Lunatic_ himself felt too strongly. Seth, there on that wire bed, felt dangerous, he felt uncontrollable and the desire to crush the men who had abducted him, who had threatened the wellbeing of his friends.

There – in the corner. A big fucking spider, its eight hairy legs stretched over the delicate strands of its massive web. Caught up in its trap, several unfortunate insects had been ensnared, all twitched against the stickiness. He watched as slowly, so slowly, the arachnid crept closer, closer to the nearest of the bugs. Its efforts to escape increased in its panic, but its fate was inevitable. No matter how it tugged and pulled its little limbs, nothing it could do stopped the spider from wrapping it up tight in its silk thread. One by one, each of the insects, no matter their fight, were tied down to save for eating later. The spider, already fat, too big to tolerate, retreated to the darkness of the corner, to wait for more unwilling victims to fall into its trap. It repulsed him, made him want to squirm away from the natural horror. He wanted to crawl out of that smashed window, and out into the forbidding woodland beyond. But where could he go? Anywhere that wasn't this room. He didn't even really know what state he was in – he could have made a guess that it was still Tennessee but he had no way of knowing for sure.

Frustration was his ally and enemy and Wyatt's warning echoed in his ears as he tested each of his limbs. His arms, whilst tired, were not painful, his leg was sore, but not unusable. There was too much to fear to stay here and wait for something to happen. Seth turned on the bed and it groaned from the shift of weight. The lantern that hung from a hook on the ceiling flickered as the cold air from the hole in the window whispered through. Night cut through him like that blunt scythe in that lay on the floor. A weapon indeed...if he could only reach it. Seth placed his bare feet on the splintered boards and flinched at the easy _creak_. He waited for Harper to smash through the door, but when no such thing occurred, he braced a hand against the bed frame. His heart hammered, his breath tight in his lungs and with a grunt, he forced himself up to his feet.

'_Fuck_,' he hissed. The pain was blinding, an agony that he could do without. But he swallowed down his protests. The scythe would be no use as a crutch; he needed something with which to support him. He pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand and analyzed the piles of goods. There was a tidy sum of money just left there to gather dust. The pelts no doubt would fetch a high price on the illegal fur market...he had no use for them. Nor most of the tools that initially grabbed his attention, until he spied something lent up against the wall, it looked to be the remains of an old wooden ladder. _Perfect_. It was in enough pieces that one of them would be enough to use. But first he had to reach it.

He had to let go of the bed.

Seth held his breath, and after counting to five three times, allowed his fingers to relax their grip. A little shaky, but upright, he made to take a step. _One_, Daisy would be so fucking proud right now, _two_, _three_. Each new step sent pain through him. He felt effort sweat through his forehead but he couldn't give up now. _Four, five_ he was there! He caught a hold of the ladder, what was left of it; half of it was rotted through with woodworm but what he could save was more than enough to tuck under one arm, to give him the support he needed. Harper was outside of the door. He was certainly no match for him like this but...Seth glanced down to the thick, weighted cast on his arm. He did have a built in weapon. The floor eased and squeaked and made all manner of obnoxious noises as he made for that door. He squirmed with each but knew he couldn't give up now. Finally, he reached the threshold. He steadied himself, and reached for the door handle.

It sprung open before he even had a chance to touch it, and there, standing before him, Harper stared down. There was so little of his face available that it was almost possible to miss those beetle black eyes that peered at him with the kind of frown that Seth recognized as someone who couldn't see all too well. But he clearly located Seth, and apparently not committed to causing him anymore damage, the large man folded his arms and simply waited for him to either attack or return to the bed. Seth did neither, instead, and he wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, he pulled off his glasses, and somehow still upright, he reached up and made to place them on Harper's face. His hand was caught in a grip tight enough to break even more bones, but Seth didn't panic. Instead he just let him do whatever he willed. Harper though, almost seemed confused, and after a few seconds, he plucked the glasses from Seth's hand, and put them on. He flinched as the world suddenly came into focus. Clearly, like Roman, Harper had received too many bumps to the skull over the years.

'Harper, it's been a blast, but I need to go back. My girl – she'll be worried. My brothers -,'

The man though didn't seem to hear him and instead was fascinated by the world around him and how it should be seen. The prescription probably wasn't spot on but far better than what he was used to. Seth could have laughed at the whole affair if he weren't extremely keen on escaping the confines of the compound.

'Harper? Can you get me out of here, please?'

_Please? _That too, seemed to be a thing to which Harper was no accustomed. It occurred to Seth, that living the way of life the Wyatt clan did, there was a structure to things which was not questioned. Bray Wyatt gave orders, Harper and Rowan followed them blindly, devoted servants to his will. Bray could demand they did anything, and they would without question, but had he ever _asked_ anything of his followers? Seth could not remember a time he'd heard anything other than shouts, barks and quiet orders. Harper looked a bit strange in those glasses, but they kind of suited him. All he needed was a haircut and a beard trim and he could have looked like a normal guy. Sort of. The man cocked his head and seemed to be trying to digest what this polite request was, and then, finally, he nodded.

'Wait, you will?'

Nod.

'Is this some kind of tr -,' but Harper cut him off with a large hand across Seth's mouth. He held a finger to his lips. _Be quiet._ Then, without being invited to, Harper changed position, bent, and picked Seth straight up off the floor. The make shift crutch hit the hardwood with a loud _thwack_. Harper paused, listened, waited. Then, he started to make his way down the stairs. Seth could have laughed about being carried like a bride, that Harper hadn't even taken him out for a drink first, but it wasn't the time for wise cracks. He clung onto the nearest shoulder for dear life. He was surprised how light on his feet Harper was as he moved swiftly down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he stopped once again, still as silence. What was he waiting for?

_Creak...creak...creak_...

Wyatt's chair in the den rocked back and forth methodically. Smoke from the pipe drifted through the doorway to where they were in the landing. Harper stepped, and put his weight down at the exact same moment as the next _creak_. One swallowed by the other. He moved quick through the house to the exit door, and allowed Seth to pull it open with a free hand. Outside the night was full and thick with a skin tingling chill that wasn't entirely unpleasant. A quick whistle from Harper found the mongrel from earlier peep out from behind the corner of a freestanding outhouse. The dog appeared curious about the whole ordeal, but another short call from Harper brought it to his side. Its wet nose and tongue pressed against Seth's bare foot as it stood up to sniff him. The gentle pant of the mutt somehow steadied his nerves and Seth glanced back at the house. _Inside there be monsters._

And one of them...was helping him. Harper's reasons for this, Seth couldn't possibly understand. He allowed the other man to carefully load him into the passenger side of that beaten up truck he'd been in only hours before. Now that he was in the front he could admire just how rundown the old thing was. Clearly they'd had it for decades, and judging by the grease stains on Harper's rarely changed clothes, it was the big man's baby. Not a word was uttered as he started the truck up, as he put her into gear and pulled away, gravel spat up and the dog pushed itself from the back and into Seth's lap, tail wagging, clearly happy for another adventure.

He didn't want the animal on him. It stank.

Another glance over his shoulder saw the compound vanish into trees and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He was free! And he'd be damned if he were going back to that hospital.

'Harper I need to call Paige -,'

As if anticipating this would come up, Harper dug into his pant pocket, and pulled out something sleek, shiny, and very, very new. Seth recognized it instantly, even in the woodsman's burly hand.

'This...this is my phone. You grabbed this?' He'd not quite anticipated this strange kindness. First his glasses, then his mobile; had Harper been planning on helping him escape all along? Quickly, he unlocked the screen and found dozens of missed calls and even more messages. Most of them were from Paige, a handful from Dean, and six from Roman – his was the most recent phone call. But that brought a frown to Seth's brow, as he when he looked through the call list, he realized that the newest had been answered. 'Harper, did you answer this?'

Once again, no answers, just that vacant stare through the windscreen. The road trailed under the faded headlights. Thousands of trees, overgrown and tangled blurred past the truck. The dog nuzzled the side of Seth's face and licked at his neck, _affectionate little thing_...Seth's plaster cast hand scratched the mutt's head as he scrolled through the messages. He knew that if Wyatt wanted to kill him now, he'd have to dig up Seth's body first, because Paige would have beaten him to it for making her worry so much. Finally, when he'd glanced through the endless stream of words, he selected her number, pressed dial, and held it to his ear.

_It rang. _

'_Harper? We're ready, we've found somewhere to wait for you. _'

'Paige?'

'_S-Seth? Seth are you alright? Baby talk to me and tell me you're ok._'

'Yeah, yeah I'm alright. Harper...he's helping me get back to you guys. Are you all alright? Dean? Is he in one piece?'

'_Barely, but he's fine. Takes more than thumbtacks to the face to keep him down, but you know that. As soon as Kane mentioned you...Seth we should have seen this coming. I'm so sorry baby. But we're coming for you. If I ever see Bray Wyatt again he's meat in the bottom of a sausage grinder, and as soon as I get my hands on you I promise I'm never letting go again.'_

'Ew, stop smothering me,' He grinned though. 'I'm alright. Help comes from unexpected places it seems...how did you find out about Wyatt?'

'_Not long after we reached the hospital Roman tried to ring you again. Harper picked up. He didn't say a whole lot, but we gathered that you'd been taken by the Family and holed up somewhere...but he said not to worry. I don't know why, but I kind of trusted him because of that. He said to wait at a place called Huntland. It's a town about four hours from Memphis...I guess you're somewhere close to that.'_

Seth gave Harper a sideways glance which was dutifully ignored. The man who'd helped snatch him in the first place had done a great deal to try and help him get back. This was before he'd even shown him a kindness with the glasses that he still wore. What had caused Luke Harper to act so out of turn and be as kind as to help him? Maybe he shouldn't have questioned it, but the answer intrigued him.

'Alright...I guess I'll see you soon.'

'_Damn right you will. And when you do we're dragging your plaster ass to Smackdown and parading you round like you're the king of Mardi Gras.'_

'I like the sound of that. Do I get that crown you promised me?'

'_I promised nothing Rollins_,' but he could hear the fondness in her voice. '_But really I'm glad you're ok babe. I was so worried about you._'

'Hey, don't you worry. Nothing can keep me down.'

'_I'll see you soon, I love you Seth_.'

'I know you do.' He teased. He heard her short snort before she hung up the phone. He looked at her called ID with something akin to joy in his heart, before he pushed the mobile into his pajama pocket. Idley, for what seemed like hours, he stroked the dog's head and back and it just sat there, only occasionally moving to get more comfortable or to lick at Harper's exposed elbow. For the whole journey, there was awkward silence. Seth had a million questions, but it seemed Luke was reluctant to say two words, let alone give him every answer he desired. He just had to be thankful it seemed for the small mercies and the kindness that could shine through from a dark soul.

Finally, when he could stand the quiet no more, Seth leaned forward to try and turn on the radio. The blasted thing didn't work. With a sigh, he sat back in the chair, his head against the window and watched the woodland flash by.

'Well Luke...I don't know why you're doing this...but thanks.'

For the first time since they'd started the truck up, Harper turned his head to look at him. There, once again, was that odd softness, a gentleness which could have thrown Seth a thousand feet. An odd croak of a sound escaped from the man's throat as he tried to well up his so rarely used voice.

'He's...wrong.'

'Bray?'

A stern nod: 'She's...not...c-comin' back...for us.'

Seth felt a pang of sympathy. It quickly passed. He opened his mouth to ask one of his hundreds of questions, but stopped himself, closed his lips and sat quiet. The dog turned again in his lap and started to lick at his beard. Seth tried to dissuade him but it was adamant until he gave in and just let it groom him.

'S-she likes ya.' Harper grunted.

'Gee ya think?' Seth asked with a turn up of his nose. He couldn't stay angry with her for long though, as those sweet puppy dog eyes peered up at him, daring him not to adore her. 'What's her name?'

'Bren,'

'Bran?'

'Bren.'

'Oh. She your dog, Luke?'

He started to nod, but then stopped and glanced down to the affection the mongrel was showing the passenger. 'Not anymore.'

Seth blinked and stared at him, then back to the dog. 'Wait what?'

'She's...chosen ya now. Can't say no.'

'Wait -,'

The stern glare he was met with brought him back to silence. Was this some odd trade of sorts? His glasses for a dog he didn't even want? But as he played with the mutt's ears, he found himself slowly warming to the idea. He'd always wanted a dog as a kid...and he didn't have time for one on the road, or so he'd thought. He had cats, Marmie and Duke (because he was original as fuck) but a neighbour looked after them when he was away. This dog..well if he was going to take care of her properly she'd have to follow him around every state in America and sometimes beyond. But she didn't seem to dislike the idea and gave him another sloppy lick to the face.

'Well...thanks I guess. I'll take good care of her. I promise...and, you can always come visit her. You know, if you want.'

Harper seemed surprised at the idea, but pleased. The slight twitch of a smile under that giant beard, brought Seth some kind of comfort, and he settled into the seat of the car, closed his eyes, and dreamed of the girl who waited for him in a town called Huntland.


	39. To Return To You

**((Greetings all! Welcome to day 6 of merry ficmas! This one is a little on the short side, sorry about that but I hope that you enjoy it all the same! Please let me know what you think ^^))**

_And oh what dreams...a world drifting across the planet, forever shifting from earth to space from New York to Davenport to Marrakesh; they span around him in a kaleidoscope of colour and magic. He reclined against a pillow of memories and opportunities and there in front of him, a swirl of skin and black lace and silk, she danced for him. Her skin was pale as the moon, her hair long, black blue in the light. She moved like the last wave of a dying sea, valiant and wild, reaching up toward the old stars in that void of a sky. He glimpsed every inch of her through the veils of her dress. And all that while, she kept those black eyes on him. He hungered for her touch, but every time he tried to get closer, she seemed to move further away from him. His fingertips would touch the edge of her dress, before she slipped away from him once more. He tried to call out her name, but nothing escaped his lips. He chased her through that endlessness, hoping, praying he might finally catch her in his arms and leave her breathless with his kiss. _

_The night turned to day and the day cycled back into the darkness. The stars moved through that sky, and the sun punctured the bloody red sky. And all that while he could do nothing to stop himself from following her, no matter how he tired, no matter that his feet were raw he could not stop. He needed her, he desired her like a drunk to the finest whiskey. He thirsted, hungered...and the further he travelled, the more he needed her. He could feel the weight drop off his body, his skin age and his hair grey. And all that while, she smiled so sweetly, so seductively with those black lips. She enticed him forward, beckoned him to come to her breast. When he could run no more, he slowed to a walk, and then to his hands and knees and crawled. All the while at his back, he could hear the cry of buzzards. Days rotated into years and years into decades. Dark wings beat against the horizon, sharp beaks and talons snapped at his rotting flesh, pulled at his hair and picked at his exposed bone. But still, still he crawled on..._

_And when he could move no more and collapsed into the dust, a dying man, she came to him, and bent down in front of him, held his chin with her soft hand. Gentle she placed those black lips onto his torn ones and kissed him so deeply. That moment of bliss ended with the sharpest of pains, it made him choke and gag and struggle against her, but she held him fast as she pulled his soul from her body. The light faded before his eyes, and he saw, that all along, he'd been chasing nothing more than an illusion. This wasn't his Paige, and as he died, he saw only Abigail._

He jolted awake, head smacked against the window and startled he sat bolt upright, head snapped left and right. At first he couldn't figure out why, and then, as his hand fell onto the fur of a slumbering dog, he started to remember the events which had brought him into the front seat of the truck. To his left, a burly man with a wild tangle of beard and hair had his hands on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road behind a thick pair of spectacles that he recalled he'd traded for the mongrel snoozing in his lap.

Harper gave him a sideways glance, to check everything was alright, before he dutifully returned his gaze back to the road. It was the early hours, too early and he fumbled for his phone to glance at the time through his fuzzy eyes. Half two in the morning – no wonder he'd passed out. Luke Harper though seemed tireless. His eyes were wide, unblinking. What kind of discipline could make a man that would not need sleep? Was he so used to forever being at Wyatt's beck and call that he did not sleep until his mission was successful? There was some kind of insane solidarity to the man, he never queried his leader, seemed to keep his opinions to himself until now. He'd openly decreed it to him when he'd first climbed into the truck. He didn't seem to fear what could happen to him for helping Seth to escape. His face was so passive, Seth wondered if Luke had even considered that he might be punished for this. If he had, he didn't show it.

He pressed his head against the window, tried to look out at the passing landscape but quickly found that it was useless, it was all just a blur of dark and branches. He sighed, ready to settle into a mind numbing state of boredom, until a sign flashed past. He blinked and tried to peer back at it, because he could have sworn that it had said _Huntland_.

'Are we there?'

A slow nod from Harper, 'Soon.'

The sudden build up of excitement made him feel like a kid at Christmas, and his present would be waiting, no doubt wrapped up in black leather and a few dozen venomous kisses. And that would just be Dean. He could only imagine what Paige would look like. It had only been days and it felt like years. He'd had enough of being away from her for so long. Just as she had promised to never let him go again, he was tempted to drag her to the nearest church and marry the woman there and then. But he was jumping the gun, he wanted to see her and enjoy her tonight. He held no doubt at all that Dean and Roman would be equally as pleased to see him, and that the four of them would probably end up falling asleep on the same bed, with Dean's feet next to his face and Roman's elbows digging in his back as his arms clung to Paige, held her oh so close.

Though there was a chance that his brothers would get a room of their own.

He doubted it. But the chance was there.

In his excitement, he bobbed on the seat, inadvertently waking up Bren in the process. The little dog yawned widely and peered up at her new owner with question in her eyes. Seth chuckled and rubbed her head and ears affectionately.

'We're almost to her Bren, to all of them. We're nearly there. I can't wait for you to meet her.'

Bren seemed to understand, because she started to wag her tail enthusiastically. Harper shifted gear as the truck started to slow. Seth didn't entirely know where they were supposed to meet his friends; Paige hadn't really mentioned anywhere in particular. But Luke seemed to know where he was headed. It occurred to Seth that the other man had made this trip before. Was this how Daniel Bryan had escaped from the Wyatt Family two years before after they'd kidnapped him from their match with him and CM Punk? Had Harper sneaked him out of the compound in the middle of the night, driven him to Huntland so that he might return to his girlfriend, safe and sound? In all the years he'd fought against the Wyatts now, he felt like he'd never actually known Harper. But how could he? This was a side that the man had only chosen to reveal to him that very night. He'd had no qualms in taking him from that hospital room in the first place had he?

'Where are we meeting them Harper?'

'Motel,' he grunted.

Lovely, he was sure. The thought of spending a night in a potentially seedy motel was far better than being locked up in the loft of the Family, so he didn't complain. Every building that they passed, he kept his eyes peeled as wide as they would go, just in case he might spy his girl, or either of his brothers. But there was no sign yet, he didn't fret, but placed his faith in the woodsman beside him. Harper had brought him this far, he could bear to travel with him a little further. Soon he turned into a new street, and there, neon sign and all was _ARNIE'S ALL NIGHTER MOTEL_. The name was enough to make him smirk. But what made it blossom into a full smile, was the sight of a skinny sprite, leaned against one of the red doors, dressed head to toe in black, snug in a leather jacket and beer tin in hand. As the truck turned into the small parking lot, another figure joined her, thin cigarette hung limp from his mouth as she ruffled his hair and pointed toward the new arrival.

Harper pulled into a space and brought the truck to a rumbling halt.

Seth shoved the door wide open, but before he could clamber out, Bren leapt off of his lap and out to the cool tarmac below. Almost instantly, the dog clocked Paige and hurtled toward her. He saw her laugh and crouch down to make a fuss of the mongrel. He edged himself off the seat and carefully, placed his bad foot down, then his better. He flinched at the pain but was so enthused about making his way to his friends that he honestly couldn't give a shit. Pain was worth it. He clung to the door for support, but before he could take another step, he found human hands holding him up, the smile curled around the cigarette and the hazy smoke drifting off into the night.

'Dean -,'

'S'alright bro, I got ya,' he looked in a bad way, worse than usual, with fresh stitches across his forehead and an endless assortment of plasters across his nose and cheeks. He wore a plain black vest, torn in places and he'd clearly not had enough time to recover from the three levels of hell he'd endured at the hands of Kane. His shoulder was all taped up and his skin looked red in places where he'd not been able to wash all the blood off. Both of his eyes were blacked, his lip torn, teeth missing but he didn't seem to care. The man was superhuman. Despite his leg, and despite the ball shrinking assault he'd endured from Brock's foot, he was still standing, limping, but standing. Carefully, he took one of Seth's arms around his neck and shoulder and helped him to support himself. 'Good ta have ya back.'

Seth, gratefully, allowed Dean to manoeuvre him away from the truck. But as soon as the door slammed shut, the vehicle started up once again. And Seth only had a parting glimpse of Harper, as the truck backed out of the space, and back onto the road. He disappeared without a word, without a goodbye. Seth stared after him, his thank yous already said, but he felt like he'd not managed to repay him for what he'd done. After tonight, he owned Luke Harper.

It only took a minute for them to make it to where Paige still crouched next to Bren. The little dog had rolled onto her back to allow Paige to rub her stomach. Seth and Dean came to a stop a few meters away from her. For a moment, she just stared at him. Then slowly, she rose from the floor. The distance she covered in seconds felt like miles. She threw her arms around him and enveloped him so completely that all he could sense was her. He felt the drip of her liner streaked tears and she sobbed into his shoulder, happy, sad, and angry all in one. Dean released his arm to allow him to hold her back. He closed his eyes, and he breathed in her scent. They stood for what seemed like forever in that parking lot.

His brother let them have that moment. With a drift of smoke, he returned to that red door. He couldn't help but notice how Dean struggled along with no complaint, without even stopping with his truest vice in that cigarette. With a short knock, another face witnessed the intimacy with a satisfied smile.

Seth kissed her hair, stroked it, let her cling to him so tight that her nails dug into his shoulder blades. Paige didn't say a single word. She didn't need to. He felt her emotions through her touch, though her tears, through the comfort she offered him and the support she gave him. He could feel the cut of her engagement ring through the material of his pajamas. Slowly, he looked up to where Roman and Dean waited for them. His brothers gave him a respectful nod and smile. From Dean's free hand hung a four pack of branded beer. Roman looked exhausted, but he could see it all in those mahogany eyes and the grey bags beneath, the relief in Roman's overgrown beard and tied back hair. Everything about those few minutes was perfect. When she untangled herself from his arms, her hair from his, she kissed his mouth tenderly, took his hand, and led him toward his brothers. Even in the shitty motel, with them, he was home.


	40. The Early Hours

**((Hello hello! We've reached over 17,000 views! It's absolutely incredible and I have to thank you all for your continued support and such positive comments! This is the fortieth chapter and the end is a long way off yet! I hope you'll continue to stay with me on Seth's journey, and I hope you enjoy day 7 of merry ficmas! Please let me know what you think! 3))**

'Dean you have to tell me what happened...I saw Brock assault you on the stairs and then the Wyatt's came for me,' Seth said through a mouthful of pizza. It seemed to be all he ate alongside his brothers but hey, he could do with putting on some weight. Though he would have preferred it would be muscle rather than fat...he'd have to start working on that. He wanted the casts off and wanted back into the gym. But he'd made up his mind: he was returning to the WWE; plaster and all. The cheese was steaming hot, thick cuts of ham and pineapple littered the one he'd been presented with. It was positively huge, but he was easily getting through it. Dean had two, as well as fries, a massive tub of ice cream and was on his sixth cigarette and ninth beer. Roman occasionally would send Dean a slightly disapproving glance, but then would see his battle scars and shake his head, relenting just as easily. How he'd survived was something which Seth needed to hear, he was interested, _no_ intrigued! 'I don't know which I was more annoyed about – being abducted or missing out on your victory.'

Dean puffed up his chest in pride. 'Yeah well, jus' shows Kane tha' ya don' mess with a man's family an' all.' He stuffed his mouth with a handful of greasy fries. He chewed with an open mouth and they all got a rather unpleasant view of his remaining nicotine stained teeth and tonsils before he swallowed it all with a gulp of Coors. 'Kane even brough' 'is ol' tights out of retirement for me. I was honoured.' He chuckled and shrugged, 'He brough' it 'ard though. Took me fer a ride jus' like 'e promised...' Dean rubbed his greasy hand over his taped up shoulder tenderly, 'But I got 'im in the end. The worst of it was when I met those tacks,' he clearly didn't want to think about it, but as he did, he became more animated. He near threw all his food sideways as he started to act out parts of the match. Seth leaned back to avoid swings, Roman had to duck a flailing foot and Paige had to rescue poor Bren from near being crushed. But finally, when the performance was over, Dean became still, thoughtful with a splodge of cheese on his chin. 'But ya know, they coulda done anythin' they wanted...an' I wouldn't have given up...cos they scared me. When Kane said yer name Seth...I didn't even think abou' the other trials, I jus' wanted to get out of there an' get back to ya...I'm sorry I couldn't...guess it hit me extra hard cos of findin' Finn down in tha' basement. He was like a wild animal kept too long in a cage...'

'We'll find him again Dean. I know you wanted to help him,' Roman muttered and consciously wiped the cheese off his brother's chin. 'I think you broke through to him, even if it was just for a second. The connection is there, we just need to break down the walls.'

'Yeah...yeah; guess he jus' reminded me of what I was like before you guys found me.' Dean bit one of his chipped nails, 'brought it all back, ya know? Like lookin' in a mirror, except what was lookin' back at me was prettier.'

'Aw you're pretty Dean-o,' Paige said affectionately and leaned her head against his shoulder, 'and we'll find you a super special lady who sees that and tolerates your...uniqueness.'

He seemed to like that idea, and in return, tilted his head onto hers, his bloody, matted hair a stark contrast to the sleek black that blossomed from her petite head. There's was a tender friendship, and had Seth not now understood it, he could have found that jealousy swirling once again. But it was his ring she wore, and he knew he had nothing to fear. Dean's kisses were out of affection, not intimacy, not desire. He pressed one to the side of her face now, marking it with a little pizza sauce smear that she wiped away with a finger and licked off. She tucked her hair back behind a silver pierced ear and he caught a glimpse of that ring once again. He felt immensely proud of it, that they'd found it and that she loved it. It was a sign of everything they'd been to and their commitment to one another. It was a sign that come hell or high water; they were as _tight as a whale in spandex_ – to quote Dean. Roman, who'd stayed rather quiet the whole evening caught her hand now and started to admire the obsidian, encrusted silver.

'It suits you Paige,' he muttered in approval. 'So, when do I have the honour of attempting to stuff Dean into a monkey suit?'

'Whenever the lady decrees, I'd say right now, but somehow I don't think there are any churches open at this time of the morning.' Seth took another bite of pizza and relished the sweetness of the pineapple. Bliss, 'But I'd like to meet your family first Paige...just so they know what kind of riff raff you intend on bringing into the Knight clan.'

She liked that, he could tell. For years they'd discussed the possibility of him meeting her parents, he'd even come close to meeting her mom once – Saraya regularly travelled to the US to wrestle for SHIMMER and various other promotions, but they'd just never been able to make the timetables work out for them. Paige reached out a hand, sticky from where she'd been slowly making her way through her own tub of ice cream, and laced her fingers through his. The look she gave him was full of warmth; spice and a delectable tension that made his hairs stand on end.

'We should go, we should go this weekend,'

'I'd love to, but I seem to recall that you've issued your rematch for Sunday,' Seth squeezed her hand. 'But don't you worry girl. We'll get to them, just got to hope your dad doesn't see fit to DDT me on Norwich concrete.'

'Oh don't worry, if he does that it means he likes you,'

'I can't wait.'

Roman chuckled, a deep bellied sound that made all of them join in. This was good, this was nice. Some family time for them to find some solidarity once again, to connect and protect; individually they were strong but together, especially now, with renewed convictions and strengthened bonds, they were unstoppable. They were the force that would meet the unmoveable object, and they would win.

'So what about you Rome? I hear you've been turning into a regular Casanova in my absence. What happened? I thought you were the sensible one...' Seth chided with a wink.

Roman's cheeks visibly reddened and he threw a crumpled napkin at him, 'Don't you go believing anything these two have told you.'

'I'm just saying what I've been seeing. Looks like the four Horsewomen have taken quite the shine to you,'

'They're very nice girls.'

'Nice!' Dean chipped in, 'they're gorgeous. Mate I couldn't get them to cling onto me the way they do ya if I _paid_ 'em.' He closed his eyes as if thinking of that very scenario. His face fell into a wistful expression and he fell back and laid flat on the bed, his arms spread wide, a slightly perverted smirk on his mouth.

'I don't even wanna know what you're thinking right now Dean,' Roman muttered and started to fold another napkin.

'Beautiful things mate,' Dean responded dreamily.

'Probably nothing you haven't come up with already Rome,' Paige teased, and leaned over Dean to poke Roman's bicep. 'You're allowed to have fun you know. And I think that you could have a real chance there.'

'Ah but with whom?' Seth picked another piece of pineapple off the pizza, it trailed hot, sticky, delicious cheese. 'Maybe we should place bets.'

'Give the ladies a bit of respect please.' Roman folded again. 'They're not out to sleep with every guy in the locker room, and I highly doubt any of them think of me that way. They're good people, strong allies and I wouldn't want to jeopardise that in any way.'

'Didn't stop you givin' Sasha a peck the other night did it?' Seth teased.

Roman didn't respond, obviously pretending to ignore that particular comment, his head down whilst he continued his impromptu origami. But there was a small tweak of his lips, the corner pulled and they knew that behind the slight bush of his beard that Roman was smiling. But was he thinking about Sasha, or someone else? They knew not to pry. He was a private man and his romantic affairs were his business. But if they ever found out about them, they all knew that there would be endless questions. Seth's sex life was apparently everyone's, Dean's welfare was everyone's, and therefore it was only really fair if Roman received the same treatment, even if he was the adult. Dean himself was still zoned out on the bed covers. The filthy look on his face informed them all that they _really_ didn't want to know what he was thinking.

'But honestly though, when we do, I want you for my best men – both of you. I wouldn't be able to just have one.' Seth smiled at the two of them, even if Dean couldn't see it through all the dream boobs.

Roman smiled, and nodded, before he handed Paige the paper flower he'd folded. 'You'll be sure to keep an eye on our Seth won't you? As soon as you put that ring on your finger you became our brother's keeper.'

Paige snorted, 'I've been his keeper for the past three years, the only thing that will change between us is that he's contractually obliged to pick his pants up off the floor or else I can file for divorce only to marry him again three days later after he's learned his lesson.'

'She got you on a short leash bro,' Dean muttered from the bed.

Seth shrugged. Short leash or not, he didn't mind. Picking his shit up off the floor was all well and good if it meant what he thought it did. 'So does that mean you're finally moving to Davenport with me?'

Paige pressed a finger to her chin, and tilted her head in thought, 'Gee, I guess it does.'

'Yay,' Seth grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her against him into a cheesy hug. She took immediate advantage and filched a slice for herself – though how well chocolate and Hawaiian pizza would go together he really couldn't guess especially when she dipped it in the half melted ice cream and took a massive bite. 'Well that was gross.'

'Speak for yourself,' she muttered, clearly enjoying the odd concoction.

Seth and Roman exchanged looks, 'British,' the said in unison and laughed. She flipped them the bird and continued to munch through her treat. The woman could eat. She'd always had a black hole for a stomach and it was only through her constant dedication to keeping fight and in prime condition in the ring that she managed to stay as small as she was. He wouldn't have cared if she were a hundred pounds heavier; she'd still be his girl. Though, for her own good he'd probably try and coax her into the gym by leaving a trail of peanut butter covered marshmallows. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how odd her tastes were. But he loved that. She had so many quirks and oddities that it was hard _not_ to love her.

'So, bro, why do ya think ol' Harper decided to throw ya a bone and break ya out of the Wyatt's Lot eh?' Dean asked, finally returning back to the land of the living. He'd pushed himself up onto his bruised elbows, but didn't seem to feel the pain. He seemed to feel agony different to others. Maybe he was just too used to it to care anymore. 'Cos whilst I ain't complainin', seemed a little too easy to get your ass back to us.'

'I wish I knew. The only reason he sort of gave me was that Wyatt was wrong.' He'd not told Paige what Wyatt thought of her. What he presumed her to be. He would – it was too important and too worrying to hide it, but he just couldn't think of how to approach such a subject. He could hardly come out with: _hey babe, just so you know that swamp living loony in the jazzy shirt thinks you're the reincarnated version of his childhood mother/sister/lover figure. Good luck staying safe and sane!_ 'Wyatt...he seems to think Sister Abigail is coming back.'

'He's been rambling about that for years,' Paige cut in, 'what on earth has that got to do with you?'

'He seems to think that I need fixing and that when I am, I'll be a noble enemy to defeat. Apparently at the moment I'm not worth pummelling.' Seth stole a fry from Dean's box and chewed on it thoughtfully. It was too salty, going cold and not that great. A bit like the conversation really. 'He seemed to think that I needed reminding of who I was, and that he didn't like me all that much.' Seth swallowed. 'That and he's shown a rather enthusiastic interest in Dean,'

At the mention of his name, Dean sat up and looked Seth dead in the eye, 'Oh? Well he better make sure if he wants me he least buys me a drink first, I don' go for that sex on a first date thing.'

'Not that kind of interest bro,' Seth patted his good shoulder, 'the dangerous kind. He seems to think he can use you for something. That you're the same kind of animal that he is...I don't know, I can't remember his exact words, just how I felt when he was talking to me. I wanted to beat that smug smirk off his face and shove that grimy beard up his self righteous ass.'

'Ain't no one usin' me. No ways no how.'

'Damn right,' Roman agreed. He'd started a different napkin now and this time appeared to be trying to fold some kind of bird. 'Maybe he thinks Dean's crazy enough to join his cult in the cabin in the woods.'

'It's actually quite a nice place,' Seth felt like he had to share this odd truth, 'like, if they didn't live there I would have liked to stay there for the holidays. Without being a prisoner.'

'Always puts a dampener on things,'

'True...true...'

'Did he say anything else?'

'Well...' he had to tell her. But how? Maybe it would be best to just flat out say it. She'd get it out of him sooner or later anyway. She always had a knack for knowing when he was keeping something from her. 'For some reason...he thinks that...Paige is...Sister Abigail.'

She blinked, and then, let out the most obnoxious laugh he'd ever heard in his life. Snorting and coughing and hacking and chuckling until she was on the floor next to Bren, rolling around on her back as the dog pressed its wet nose against her quickly reddening face. She was down there for about five minutes, hooting at the mere thought of what Seth had implied. Eventually, she calmed down enough to stick a hand up in the air and declare:

'If I'm Sister Abigail, then I'd hate to meet his mother,' before collapsing afresh.

She might have found it hilarious, but Seth, Dean and Roman exchanged solemn looks. They knew the gravity of this. She had been the safest of them all until now. Who knew what Wyatt would do to get her into his cult? Who knew what lengths he would go to, to have his precious Sister Abigail back again? Paige wasn't vulnerable by any stretch of the imagination, but without words being said, the three of them agreed in silence, to watch over her, just in case.

Finally, she reappeared, her head popping up just above the bed, her hair a mess, face bright from her giggle fit. 'Can dogs eat ice cream?'

'I don't think dogs are supposed to have people food,'

'And is it easy to get chocolate out of a carpet?'

'No, it's not.'

'Ah,'

Seth rolled his eyes and couldn't help but smile. In a couple of days, the laughter would be over. Smackdown awaited them in Lafayette, and Seth knew that he would have to make his valiant return. His nightmares were far from over, and he knew that challenges would be waiting, ones that could threaten to break his body further, but he felt something akin to excitement. It had been months since he stood on that stage or in that ring. He might have been returning with his leg and arm in a cast, but if Paige kept her promise, he would be returning a _king_.


	41. 120816: AN UPDATE

**Greetings everyone!**

**I'm afraid that I will not be able to get an update done for today as a lot of things have been going on! But don't you worry! Tomorrow I will have an update up as usual, and I promise that it will be extra long to make up for me missing a day. I thank you all for your support and your understanding and I hope that you will all check back tomorrow for the newest update!**

**Love you all!**


	42. Welcome Back

**((Once again apologies to everyone! But here is day 8/9 of merry ficmas! Tomorrow I will not be able to get another update up as I will be at a family wedding. However two chapters shall be going up on the 11th! So keep an eye out for them! Meanwhile, once again I hope that you enjoy this update, thank you for your support and please let me know what you think!))**

* * *

'I know what you're thinking, _all of you_. And if you believe for one second that we're going to allow _any_ members of the Shield into this arena tonight then you are sorely mistaken. What happened to my husband only three days ago was nothing short of attempted murder and I will have justice! As such, here tonight, the Layfayette police have agreed to surround this building, and if Dean Ambrose, or Roman Reigns or _Paige_ even attempts to stick their noses through our doors then they will be carted straight off to prison. Thank God Hunter survived, otherwise there would be no Smackdown, there would be no Money in the Bank, there would be no WWE. My husband _is _this company and as such its future is irrevocably tied to _him_. So whatever war you're all waging, it ends _now_.'

Stephanie stood in that ring, a tower of black with a slash of red lipstick for a pursed mouth, hair neatly coiled and her eyes dark. There was thunder in the back of her throat and murder in her eyes and any light entertainment that those in attendance had been hoping for was thrown out of the proverbial window. The audience had paid good money for their tickets, and they wanted to see some wrestling. Well, if Stephanie had her way, they'd be miserable for the evening. The hand which gripped the microphone shook in rage at the shower of distain which rained down on her.

'You can boo all you want. Go on, slather me in your hate, but at the end of the day if it weren't for me, then this show would have been _cancelled_. I left my injured husband's bed side to come here tonight, to make sure that this would be a success. So, to start off this mayhem free evening, our first match will be Daniel Bryan against Kevin Owens. Enjoy.'

She stomped out of that ring with conviction. Her heels could have punctured through the canvas mat. She snapped at one of the security men she'd brought as her entourage to open the ropes for her so that she could climb through with relative ease. He held them, though his expression clearly read that he was only there for the money. As she made her way back up that ramp, _Flight of the Valkyries_ started to play with the familiar electric crescendo. She reached the stage as the battered and taped up wrestler made his way out. Weary, he regarded her, before she shoved him out of her way so that she could get to the back. It couldn't stop the crowd's adoration for the underdog though, and whilst they would not have their Shield, they could have their goat. The _yes_ chant started up with robust joyous ovulation. He raised his arms, fingers pointed to the air in time with their shouts. He sidestepped his way down the ramp, despite his wounds, despite how sore he was and how clearly it hurt him, he wasn't about to disappoint. The crowd appreciated it, and as he stood in that ring, he peered around at them all and knew that he had to win this fight, if not just for himself, but also for the fans.

All too soon though, his theme faded out and was replaced by _Fight_. It was clear from the moment that Owens walked out, he was not in a good mood. There was no pause, no showboating. He was down that ramp in a flash, straight into that ring, and the ref barely had time to call for the bell before he landed the first blow.

Backstage Stephanie wasn't about to hang around. She didn't want any part of it, and with her security team, she went headlong from the Gorilla Position toward her makeshift office. She'd made her demands early the previous day, and was in the kind of mood that if they weren't catered for, she was having heads on plates. She'd asked for a large room with plenty of space for her to relax. She wanted all of these things despite the fact that if she could she would be on a plane out of Layfayette as soon as possible. There was no doubt that she was worried about Triple H. After all they'd been married for a long time with three little girls, and he had a lot of ties in her company. Maybe she was just paranoid that she would be next to fall victim to the people she hounded. But what could they do to her if they couldn't even get into the arena? Yes. It was foolproof. Even if they did manage to get in...there was so much security that they wouldn't be able to get to her. No one could bash through the door to her office. No. She would be perfectly safe. As soon as she was inside, she turned on the television set which had been deposited in there, directing a live feed straight to where she was. She kicked off her high heels and sat down on that cream leather sofa and smirked in satisfaction as Bryan was thrown out of the ring. Nothing could make this night go wrong. She'd planned ahead, she'd made contingencies, she was a smart woman. She had this all perfectly sorted.

And then someone knocked on the door.

'What?' she snapped, loud enough for anyone half way down the hall to hear.

'We've got a special delivery for you,'

Her forehead creased into a frown. She'd allowed one of the cameramen into the office so that she could have someone to force between her and any potential attackers who somehow had managed to slip through her carefully spun web. He was filming the whole scene – if anything happened all the security would be there in a flash. Slowly, she slid off the sofa and walked cautiously toward the door.

'What is it?'

'I don't know ma'am. It's for you and says that it's urgent.'

She wasn't one to be tricked easily – her father may have fallen for his fair share of traps in the past but she'd learned from his mistakes – even if he was the one who'd hired back that whore Paige just so they could have a few extra women on the roster. Stephanie stood just behind the door, and opened it just a little. She could just make out someone in a FedEx uniform, their cap pulled low, a box in hand. She wasn't about to be so easily misled, and slunk her arm through the gap in the door and snatched his hat. He blinked at her in complete surprise, and she glowered. Not anyone she knew. Stephanie allowed the door to open further, just enough for her to grab the package from his hands, and close the door again.

'Er ma'am...I need you to sign for it.'

'Screw your signature!' she snapped back in irritation.

'I'm afraid I need it. I'll wait if I have to; it's more than my job's worth.'

She turned the box upside down, all around and shook it. It didn't _sound_ dangerous. But she wasn't about to be made a fool of.

'Ma'am -,'

'FINE,' she reopened the door enough to get her arm out, fumbled for the pen that was handed to her and scribbled her sign on the dotted line. Another slam of the door and she found herself alone in the office with the cameraman. She sat back down on that sofa, a perpetual frown carved into her face. It was just a plain brown cardboard box. Slowly, she opened it as Daniel Bryan hit the running knee, but she didn't even notice as she found a piece of paper sat in the bottom of the box. She reached in and picked it up.

_Stephanie, gee thanks for rehiring me, guess I'll have to make one hell of a comeback._

She stared at those words, her hands shook. In rage, she gripped that paper and tore it into a dozen tiny pieces. She froze and glanced over her shoulder to find that the camera had filmed the whole thing. 'TURN THAT THING OFF.'

Stephanie was on her feet once again. Without even stopping to put her shoes on, she threw the door open and stampeded toward the arena. Security chased after her, tried to form a ring around her but she moved far too quickly, and when she got to that stage, despite the match still going on, she grabbed the nearest microphone and started to screech.

'Stop this match! Stop it right now!'

The two men in the ring, Daniel Bryan in control with the _yes lock_, did stop, but Bryan didn't let up on the assault.

'Somewhere in this building, is one of the Shield.' She spat, 'And I don't care who it is, I'll pay whoever drags them to me on their hands and knees, I'll – I'll whoever brings me the Shield will have an automatic shot at the world heavyweight championship! Now stop this match and do what I tell you! Everyone dammit! Every member of the roster! Do it!'

Owens looked very keen to escape the lock, to go out and do Stephanie's bidding, but Daniel Bryan simply tightened it. Stephanie looked at the bearded man dead in his eyes and he glared back with supreme conviction. He wasn't about to take up her offer, and he wasn't about to let Kevin Owens do so either. Stephanie clearly looked like she was about to explode. But Bryan held on to the _yes_ chants of the audience.

'Stop him!'

She pointed at Bryan with that microphone and sent those security men down toward the ring. They surrounded it quickly, leaving the goat man with nowhere to run. But he didn't let up. The strain in his muscles was clear and despite Owens' tapping and attempts of escape, nothing would make him stop. Even as they clambered into the ring, and he looked all around, he refused to let go. It was only when that security team fell onto him, dragged him kicking away from the fallen Owens that he finally released him. They tugged his hair; they beat him down until he was pinned to the mat under the weight.

'Aw, poor Daniel Bryan...don't you understand that this is what happens to people who defy me? I offer you a chance at the championship you seek so strongly, and you repay me with disobedience.' She cocked her head, 'Maybe I should make it so that you have no chance at all at that championship, maybe...I should have Owens break your leg...'

'_Aw now Stephanie McMahon why don't you just behave yourself and leave the good man alone?' _

The uproar was phenomenal. The voice came from all directions, all speakers. Stephanie's gaze shot through every single inch of that arena, searched every single face in the crowd trying to find the source of that voice. Because she knew exactly who it was, every single human in that arena did.

'Reigns! If it really is you, if you really are here, why don't you show yourself to all these people who have believed in you for so long?' Stephanie shouted into that microphone. 'Why don't you come and save poor defenceless Daniel Bryan, before I have done to him what my husband did to your friend?'

'_Has anyone ever told you Stephanie, that you can be a real bitch?' _

'Paige?' she snarled, this voice came from everywhere. How had they gotten into the building? How had they managed to get past that barrage of men she'd had put in place? How...it didn't matter now. The fact was they'd managed to get into the Cajundome. That was that. Now she just had to concentrate on getting them _out_. She had the Layfayette police force at her disposal she had all these security guards...she was still in control. They might have hijacked the sound, but she could get this back. 'You honestly think that you can achieve anything just by coming in and trying to take over this show? Well you can't. And to make sure that you realize that...' she directed her gaze straight to Bryan. 'Break his legs,'

'_Someone gettin' tetchy 'ere boys, do ya think if we lit a match she'd go up from all the gas she's sproutin'?_' Dean's voice mocked. The audience clearly loved it. The security team didn't look entirely sure about crippling the man they held down, but the woman on the stage paid their salaries. She could snap her fingers and they'd be out of a job, maybe would never have jobs again. The McMahons were powerful people; they had influence most could never comprehend. The few security that had remained on stage to protect Stephanie were all around her, eyes outward to watch for any potential attacks. She was safe.

'I'll have all of your heads. The whole roster are out looking for all of you, and when they find you, I'll crush you so far into the earth you'll find the devil's hell.'

'_But we already found the devil Stephanie, and she wears Louboutins,' _

'Do it dammit! Show them I won't be messed with! Break his damn legs! Right now!'

But as easily as she ordered it, they disobeyed. Slowly, they rose up from where they'd held Bryan down to the mat, and helped him to his feet. Owens, seemingly realizing what was happening, hot footed it out of the ring, and started to crawl up the ramp away from the security staff. Stephanie stared baffled at what was happening. The security staff looked at each other in turn, and then, one by one, they removed the hats they'd all worn so low over their faces it had been impossible to tell what they'd actually looked like. Hair tumbled free, scars and plasters and glasses and smirks all clear to see in the revealing light of the Cajundome.

There, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, Paige, Dolph Ziggler and Nikki Bella all stood, to the riotous cheers of the audience. What a security team they made. They aided Bryan, made sure he could stand on his own two feet, before they all turned, to face Stephanie. Dean leaned casually against Roman, and Paige had linked arms with Charlotte who towered over her. But there was something incredibly powerful, as the one who stood at the head of them all, microphone in hand...was Dolph Ziggler.

'Do you honestly think, that after everything you've put us all through, we'd so easily turn on the few who are trying to help us? Trying to make this a better place to be? We're _wrestlers_, we're not superstars, we're not divas. We're men and women who have worked our asses off for years, _decades_, only to be thrown under the bus the second we get given a chance.' Dolph put a hand on Daniel Bryan's shoulder, and the two men gave each other a respectful nod. 'This Sunday, we're fighting for our chance, just like we have our whole lives, whether you like it or not.'

On that stage, embarrassed again in front of thousands, Stephanie McMahon was thunderstruck. Every single fibre of her hair and being stood on end in undeniable rage. That ruddy colour that matted her cheeks was rouge as a bloody moon and that sweat on her forehead were salty drops of cruelty. Maybe it came from all the tears of the orphans she'd drunk. But then, she stopped, and she laughed. She actually _laughed_. It was hollow, loud, mocking...a shrieking laugh that one could only think had originated in the banshees of legend. She pointed at the six people in that ring and counted them in turn.

'Do you honestly think that you'll get away with this little stunt?' she hissed when she finally took a breath, 'this arena is completely surrounded by police. And as far as I remember Dean Ambrose you're currently under suspicion for attempted murder, all I have to do is alert them and they'll be in here within seconds to arrest you and those who aided you. And among you I can count, oh wait, _every single one of you_.' Stephanie smiled then, a true smile, the kind worn by someone who'd won a long game of chess, with a simple pawn. 'So, I think you'll find that you're in no position to make such statements Mr Ziggler.' She looked at each of the security members who still stood with her and shrugged, 'At least I can count some faithful employees among the rats -,'

But almost as soon as she said it, those four people turned around. Off came the caps, off came sunglasses...and there stood four very beautiful, very dangerous women. Stephanie looked at each of the Horsewomen in turn, equally gobsmacked at each face that smiled at her with such malice. But they didn't move to touch her, oh no, they simply stood there, blocking her escape. She started to back away from them, straight into Kevin Owens. He gripped her hand and started to lead her off the ramp to the side exit, but as they did, the lights shut down, the spotlight swung to where they wished to escape. Someone stood in their way. Dressed head to toe in black, even the thick brace that bound the leg, which steadied the arm...

_Sierra._

_Hotel._

_India._

_Echo._

_Lima._

_Delta._

_Shield._

The hood which covered the face was thrown back at the first strike of the theme. There, haloed in the light, Seth Rollins stood and faced Stephanie McMahon. He'd lost weight, his beard and hair were thicker and longer, he'd been through some wars, looked worse for wear, but he'd not lost the fight in his eyes. The change to the braces allowed him to stand freely without the use of a crutch, the past day had been spent practicing religiously with Daisy and Bryan ((the only physios he would see, and made the acceptation of returning to the hospital for)), and now, there he was. There he stood, and of course, lopsided on his dark hair, was a gold, plastic crown. Under one hand was a classy black cane to steady him, and in the other was his ultimate weapon – the microphone.

Just in sight, Stephanie stood open mouthed. What a wonderful sight. He winked at her and waggled a few fingers in her direction, before blowing a kiss.

'Well hello honey. Did you miss me?'

The overwhelming response from the people all around him was _yes_. Bryan's chant started up for half whilst the others greeted him with delighted cries of _welcome back_. Yes, this was where he needed to be, where he belonged, broken bones and all. If Dean could wrestle three matches of hell and high water with a healing leg then he could return and he could manage his friends. His hair had been dyed by his ever faithful fiancé and the skunk chunk radiated absolute glory in that light, a bright blond that was a stark contrast to the darkness of his attire. He could easily have allowed himself to feel too much at how kind, how good these people were being to him. He'd been away far too long.

'I think it's fair to say that things have gone to shit in the absence of the Shield. And that, is through no fault of the men and women of this roster. But I think it's time for a change people. The Shield is _back_. _I _am back, and that means Stephanie, that all your little schemes and your twists and turns, have just been thrown out of the window. Now why don't you go back to your cosy little office and sit there, waiting for this to end whilst the grownups put on a _wrestling_ show for this audience.'

'_How dare you_. _My husband destroyed you Rollins_ -,'

'Well last time I checked _princess_, thanks to my old friend Dean, your husband is the one in the hospital bed right now, whilst I'm standing here.' Seth shrugged, 'Waiting for my rematch. Though don't you worry Stephanie, I'll happily wait for him to heal up. I'm not in the best shape myself. Then again...I wouldn't recommend you set your bulldog on me, I'm strong enough to bite back, let alone those four ravishing ladies on that stage, close enough to prevent him even breathing on me.' Seth leaned easily on that cane – lord knew where Dean had got it from, but he was already growing rather attached to it. The crooked crown was just a little bit of fun, but should he win that belt back at some point, maybe he should start going round calling himself _King Rollins_, it had worked for Booker T after all...'I tell you what though Stephanie...you and your pet can go right now, because tonight, is _my night. My Smackdown_. I'm taking over.' Seth dropped the microphone and raised his hands into the air, soaking in the applause. These were his people. He was _back_.


	43. King For A Day

**((Here is the first chapter of the day! The second will be up later tonight! I hope that you enjoy this newest update, please let me know what you think!))**

Poor ol' Stephanie McMahon, the sheer embarrassment that she must have felt as the Horsewomen escorted her to that lovely little office she'd had set up. Kevin Owens had been separated from her and herded off out the back until he was actually required – _if_ he was required; Seth had respect for the man's wrestling ability, he was one of the best in the world, but his constant attitude, his self-importance and refusal to do anything for anyone other than himself earned him a spot on the naughty list. There were so many talented bodies on that roster that just weren't given the time, weren't utilized the way they should have been. Seth could appreciate those who had allied with him and the Shield, and he could push them to the moon, but he knew that in order for there to be greatness, there had to be adversity to overcome. Those who had put their lot in with the Authority certainly were not his favourite people – but they were wrestlers too, men and women who just wanted a chance to prove how good they were. It would have been wrong for him to ignore them completely. This was the one chance he would have to make an impact.

He'd moved up to that stage, sluggish up that ramp and worn out by the time he made it, but when he did and turned around to face the audience, he was met with applause. He adjusted how he stood so that he was better grounded and just listened to the support that they were showing him. How he'd missed the WWE audience. The fans were really what they did it for – the recognition was great, championships felt like you'd achieved the pinnacle of the craft – but the sport wouldn't have existed without the people to watch them in that ring.

'Now, since there is a very strong chance of my home being raided by Authority goons and me disappearing in the night, so let's make sure that tonight is the best Smackdown that has ever been recorded!' he felt like a real General Manager up there addressing them like this. His friends had retreated to the back with Owens and he stood alone, but he felt powerful. He felt like right now, what he was about to do, would make a difference. But who knew? He doubted that the powers that be would suddenly grant him a job as important as GM. Especially since he was rather sure that the Authority wanted his guts ground into the sidewalk. But...who knew. Stranger things had happened to him in the past year. 'And I want to give you the matches you want to see. Money in the Bank is just round the corner and someone will be lifting that shiny briefcase off the hook...but until then, let's just have some fun. So for our very first match tonight...we have Daniel Bryan,' who was still in that ring, leaning against one of the posts, 'versus Sami Zayn!'

The two men may not have been at their best, but they'd recovered enough from the beat down at the hands of the Authority enough for this. He knew that ever since Zayn had been moved up from NXT that people wanted to see Zayn against Bryan, it was a dream match waiting to happen. The crowd very much seemed on board with the idea as the happy ska beat of _World's Apart_ started up and the titanitron burst into colour. _OoooooOooooOoooOooO _came from the lips of thousands, and even Seth himself bobbed as best he could along to the enthusiastic music. But nothing could have been more energetic as the man himself who near bounced out onto that stage, danced around Seth and skipped and kicked his way down to that ring as if the attack from only a week ago had never touched him. Oh the wounds were still there, but like Daniel Bryan, Zayn was a performer a worldwide superstar, just because things hurt, didn't mean that the show would.

Sami slid into that ring with a joy few people could understand, and bobbed in his place as an official hurried down to join them. This was a momentous occasion. It was a shame that he couldn't decree a belt on the line because what a championship match it would be. Instead he looked on, satisfied, as the two former Ring of Honour darlings, shook hands, and the bell rung.

Seth sat out back with the rest of the roster, perched on fold out chairs to watch the match on that monitor. It felt like he was back in the fold again. All around him were smiles, nodding heads, cheers in appreciation for what the two men were doing. This wasn't going to be some minute squash match. It would go on for fifteen, twenty minutes, and he knew that whilst the match had been made on the fly, that it would go down in history as one of the best. To his left sat Nikki Bella, still in her security uniform, as she supported her brother in law. In some ways it was a surprise to him that she and her sister (Brie was two rows behind them, eyes fixed on the screen) had so easily been persuaded into joining their little rebellion. Paige had never seen completely eye to eye with them, and yet they were willing to put that aside to try and fix what was broken with the WWE. Even now, he could see that the women's locker room had started to communicate better with one another, and their co-ordinated attacks had saved the Shield countless times. To Nikki's left was Natalya, read in her wrestling gear for the match he'd decided would come next: Natalya versus Becky Lynch. The two ladies were among the best technical wrestlers on the planet. It seemed such an obvious choice to put them against each other that when he'd suggested it to them, Becky had actually kissed him on the cheek, before heading off to get made up.

On his right was Roman, who also had yet to change out of the security uniform. He rather suited it. Maybe if he ever did leave the WWE he had a job awaiting him in enforcement. His hair was tied back, those glasses perched on his nose, and his muscular arms were folded. He looked so serious. Seth patted his friend's arm.

'You good Rome?'

For a moment he didn't seem to hear him. But then, after a few seconds, he blinked and seemed to come back to earth. 'Yeah man, just fine.'

'You've been very quiet lately. Something on your mind?'

'I...guess so. I think I'm just worried. A lot has happened, to all of us. Guess I'm just feeling uncertain about everything. When something goes well, the rug gets pulled out from under our feet. So...'

'Things have worked out tonight so far. So relax, why don't we just enjoy the show...and worry later?'

Roman thought about it for a minute and then, solemnly nodded. 'Sure, sure...you're right.' and then, finally, his smile returned to his face and he gently biffed Seth's arm. 'So, Mr Temporary Takeover GM. What else have you got planned for tonight eh?'

Seth rubbed his chin, and glanced over the people who surrounded him. A tag match would be the most logical. But who? The New Day were the obvious choice, but who to put them against? The threesome was crazy over as heels and rather difficult to deal with from their inflated egos. On their own, the three of them were excellent athletes; together they were a force to be reckoned with. He'd missed out on their meteoric rise, but he'd found out very quickly just why they were popular, despite their antics. They were tag champs for a reason. But who was deserving, and exciting to put against them?

'How about New Day versus Cesaro and Tyson Kidd? That could be one hell of a match.'

'Sounds good to me, maybe Cesaro will do us all a favour and bend that trombone in two.' Roman chuckled. He turned in his seat to peer around, 'Now all you need is a main event.'

'Yeah...I think I know who I'd like for that...but we'll have to find him first,'

Roman blinked and looked around, 'Most of us are here – who do you have in mind?'

'If I'm right...he'll be hiding in the boiler room.'

'I'm in,' Dean shoved his way into the conversation from behind them both. He'd been sat there the whole time, feeding himself marshmallows in the shape of stars. Like Roman, he'd been reasonably quiet ever since the plane had touched down, and almost as soon as they'd reached the arena, he'd not said two words until he'd been required to for their earlier ploy. Seth could only guess that his brother had a lot to think about, but the sheer momentum that he'd mentioned that boiler room, Dean sprang back to life. 'But I dunno if he'd want all of us to go find him.'

'Do you honestly think they fly him all over the country and each time they land in a town they find the nearest dark dusty spot and shove him on in? What kind of sense does that make?'

'The same sense as Luke Harper being a teddy bear.'

'Fair enough,' Roman mused, he shrugged and then nodded. 'Want me to go with you Dean?'

His brother shook his head, 'Think it'd be better if Seth came, you're a big guy Rome, don't want him to think we're somethin' to be attacked...again.' Dean knocked his forehead gently against Seth's, 'plus Seth has a big stick. Just in cases,'

Well that didn't sound like a whole lot of fun. But he understood. 'You think that you can hold down the fort topside Rome?'

'Do I need a tie?'

'Nah you're good,'

'Hope the crowd don't hate me for not being you,'

'Shuddup Rome. They love you; escort our ladies to their match.' With a grunt of effort, Seth heaved himself up. Everything ached, but it was better than the sheer agony he'd been putting up for the past few months. His hand curled around the top of the cane, and with the free hand, he took off that little gold crown, and placed it onto his brother's head. 'King Roman – go forth and rule the people in my absence,'

Careful, he started up his legs and hobbled away from the chairs, with Dean in sticky, marshmallow tow. There was something about what they were going to do which scared him. The fact that the man they were going to find was known as _The Demon King_ should have been warning enough. But at his side he had Dean, the one who'd broken through to the monster in the basement. He just had to hope that he could do the same once again. Separating off from the pack felt a little unsafe, but at the end of it all, the one in the boiler room as a man, nothing could change that. However Seth had suffered at the hands of humans, they all had, and it didn't lower the feel of threat which made him tense as they walked along that corridor.


	44. With A Candle To Guide Me

**((And here is the second promised chapter! Like the last I hope that you will enjoy it. This is the official day 11 of merry ficmas! Thank you all for your support, we're well on the way to 18,000 views which is incredible! Please let me know what you think in the comments, and follow the story ^^))**

If people were born with special abilities, things that made them individual, things that made them _them_, then Dean was the strangest of them all. There was something powerful about the insect like way he moved, the near constant sway of his head and those large moon like eyes. Perhaps that was the reason he healed so quickly, perhaps that was how he endured so much pain, had so much resilience...maybe that was why Dean Ambrose was better than a fucking SatNav. Lord only knew what actually went on in his head, but in all the time he'd known Dean, no matter where the man was, he always ended up where he wanted to go. Like now, he didn't need any directions, he just walked with a sense of purpose which Seth had to limp after as quickly as possible so that he didn't get left behind. The Cajundome was a vast building with many twists and turns, and they passed by all manner of staff and endless doors. It almost felt like they were going round in circles. Then, they arrived at a staircase.

'Hmm, stairs, I don't know how well this is gonna go Dean,'

'I could carry ya if ya want,' Dean offered with a sympathetic shrug. The idea was a kind one but he was in no good shape to try hauling Seth down a flight of stairs. Perhaps a few months, or even weeks down the line he'd be healthy enough to do such a thing. For now however, Seth would just have to, somehow, clamber down. He placed his free hand on the stair rail, and braced his cane against the top step. He was careful to place his foot down completely, straighten the knee – just as Daisy had hammered into him – and allowed himself to move down the steps. Only a handful at a time, with a pause for him to steady himself, Dean dutifully positioned himself in front of him to catch him should he fall. Getting back up the stairs was going to be far more of a problem – _if_ they came back up. Lord only knew what sort of mood the demon in the basement would possess, and if he didn't want to be found or coerced to the surface then they're going to have problems. The very idea of Finn Balor being held captive in the boiler rooms of venues was ridiculous, and if Dean hadn't encountered him, he wouldn't have believed it. But then, who would have believed that a cult like the Wyatt Family would have existed? Theirs was a strange and twisted world, and in a way, they were all the victims. Yes, even Stephanie McMahon and her psychopathic boyfriend.

Even from where they were, they could hear the cheers – it seemed that the match was over. Who had won? That he couldn't tell, because the music couldn't be heard over the joyous shouts.

'Sounds like the match was a hit,' Seth muttered and made his way down another handful of steps.

'Course it was, sure they'll all go crazy for the ladies when they get out there for theirs,' Dean smiled at him shyly, 'guess you're not plannin' any matches for ol' Dean tonight eh?'

Seth didn't answer him straight away. He wanted Dean to have a match, but he wasn't sure if his friend was actually ready for that after what he'd been through at the hands of Kane. Dean was a fighter; he was a warrior, probably born in the wrong century. He would have been perfectly comfortable among the naked Celts, painted blue and rushing headlong at a Roman army. The very thought of not being involved in a fight probably was appalling to him. How could he not respect that? How could he not cater to that in his few hours of seized power? And so...that was where the idea to venture down into the boiler room had really come from. What he'd seen happen between the two men had been intense, raw, bloody and a true battle. It had been beyond exciting to watch, had been something that made him worry, made him panic. Those kinds of emotions were rare nowadays...and he knew he couldn't be the only one to want to see a rematch, in the light, in a ring. Maybe he was just morbidly curious about Finn Balor. He'd never met the man, only heard the stories, and the fact that he'd been so crazed, so _animalistic_ upon his rediscovery...he wanted to try and understand him, even if the only person who could connect to him was Dean. Maybe it was Dean's own creature like nature that had allowed him to break through, to understand enough.

Or maybe he just would never be as good a person as Dean.

That was probably the answer.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs. The air was notably closer, the same cruel heat that Seth had felt through the laptop screen when Dean had last ventured down into the depths of one of these buildings. Dean, who'd stayed very close for the stairs, now broke off, followed his gut down the darker corridors toward where he instinctively knew the boiler room awaited them. Seth tried his best to keep up, but Dean was on a mission. His brother even disappeared off round one of the corners. That dull ache in his legs began to throb as he tried to hurry after him, but when he turned that corner, there was no sign of Dean, just an open door, that lead into complete, heavy darkness.

'Dean?'

No answer. He could guess that his brother had already delved into the pitch to find the demon that lurked inside. There was sympathy in Dean's heart and Seth knew it altered his judgement. Dean would want to save Finn Balor, without thinking of his own safety. Just because he'd survived once, didn't mean it would happen again. Who knew what had happened in the few days since their last encounter? Who knew what state Balor's mind was in? Carefully, Seth crossed the threshold and was immediately enveloped in the dark. Remembering how easily his brother had burned his hands, he didn't feel with his fingers, but with his stick. The cripple and the blind in one easy package, he was an easy catch and he knew it. But he couldn't leave Dean to deal with this all on his own.

'Dean, where are you?'

The hollow echo of the metal cane against the piping disturbed his balance, his equilibrium skewed he fumbled and near fell, but somehow, somehow caught his footing once again. Seth took a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. He could see nothing; hear less from the rumbling above and the deep groan of the boilers. He couldn't sense his brother nearby, like Dean had simply vanished off the face of the earth, or had been swallowed whole by the dark. Every nerve prickled here. The cruel heat dragged sweat from his skin and welled over him. Through the thickness of his clothes he could feel his temperature rise to uncomfortable levels and the pain in his legs made his head light. He had to stop. But where was safe? He felt around with that cane until it knocked into brick wall. Quickly he put his back against it and relished the coolness of the brick work. This underground maze was impossible without light. Light? Why hadn't he thought of this before? Like when he searched for Paige and Roman, things were a whole lot easier with his phone. Seth pushed a hand into his pocket and brought the devise to life, quickly selecting the light option, suddenly able to see his shoes, relief flooded through him, until he raised it up.

An evil smile, sharp as a butcher knife cut through him, the giant man that peered down did so with cruel intent, with real hate.

'Hello Seth,'

Kane's hands gripped around his throat, tight, tighter, lifting him from the floor. Seth buckled against the grip, feet twitched and he gasped for any breath. He clawed at those giant hands, at Kane's fixed face. The phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor, the screen smashed, the light disappeared and he was lost in oblivion with a killer.

'I knew you'd come here Seth. I just knew Dean couldn't resist searching for my pet,'

There was so much bitterness in the voice, it savoured his pain, it enjoyed how his fight was fading. The malice shivered through Seth's body, he could feel something building in his neck a pressure which terrified him, the crushing of his Adams apple.

'I wonder, will he love the demon still, if he finds your body?'

His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His throat ravaged, his voice numbed, his senses started to fail with the tight squeeze of Kane's fingers.

He didn't realize he'd fallen until he hit the ground. He landed heavy, hard, his leg twisted and his head knocked against the concrete, but he gasped for air. He spluttered and heaved and his poor starved lungs swallowed air. Dazed, confused, he could hear confrontation, could feel the chaos that had erupted next to him. Blindly he felt for that phone. Fingers closed around it. By some miracle it still worked, and Seth brought the light back on. He shone it ahead of him. There, snapping and biting like a feral animal, was a shape. It moved like a blur, cut off all attempts to escape. It seemed to see what would happen, was out of the way before a blow could be landed and curled around Kane's lashing arms. That face, he knew it now, the gaping painted jaws and the wild eyes – Balor. Somehow, Kane managed to grasp something heavy, and he swung with all his might. The blow to Balor's head was crippling, and the demon hit the ground. Kane was slow to recover, but as soon as he was back on his feet, he knew he'd dealt enough damage for now, and he bent down to grip Balor's leg, and started to drag him away.

'No! Stop!' Seth tried to struggle to his feet, the cane had slipped away from his grasp, rolled under somewhere, nowhere in sight. Pipes, he had no choice as he grasped a hold of one, expecting the sharp sting of a burn...but nothing, cold, harmless, he heaved himself up as Kane vanished from the phone's light range. 'Shit, shit!' he had to follow, he had to try and do something. That _monster_, that _demon_...had just saved his life. With one hand to hold the phone, the other stretched out so that he could cling to the lagging for dear life. His steps were slow, the pain very, very real. But his agony didn't matter right now. He had to find Kane, he had to find Finn Balor, had to help him...where was Dean in all of this?

For what felt like an eternity, he followed the endless hall, until something stopped him. There, a thick red glow – orange almost, like a lantern's light, or a glowing hot open fire. This was not safe, this was not smart but he didn't allow his feet to stop because he owed this man. Unsteady and cautious, he moved closer, ears perked for any sounds. There, the cold clink of metal on concrete, the sound of something scraping. It set his teeth on edge, and he came to the corner, and slowly peered around it.

The room was very open, set up almost like a den. There was a ragged old mattress dumped on the floor in one corner next to a leaking pipe, the thick hot fire came from what looked to be the main heating system, its grate white hot from the heat it generated. Smashed on the floor looked to be some kind of glass – no a mirror. But there was nothing else, nothing, save for the colossus of Kane, as he secured a struggling Balor to one of the pipes.

'You've misbehaved again,' Kane snapped and struck the man across the face with such force Seth heard bones crack. 'After all I've done for you, you attack me. _Me_, I was the one who saved you from what the Authority had originally planned for you. They knew you were dangerous, would have thrown you out from the company, but I convinced them to let me keep you. Somewhere safe and sound...' he gripped Balor's chin and forced him to look at him with those far away eyes. 'And this, is how you repay me...' there was a large chunk missing from one of Kane's arms, and from the bloody smear around Balor's mouth there was no doubt what had happened. 'Nothing more than a rabid dog. Should have let them put you down when there was a chance...'

It disturbed him to his very core. But he knew he had to help, had to do _something_. There was no way he could be kept down here like some filthy secret. His mind had clearly been broken by the whole ordeal...they had to save him. Behind the animal, the demon, there was a human man too damaged to come to the surface. What could he do?

'Kane!' Dean's voice – it echoed from all around, a shrill mocking sound. Kane himself peered up, peered around and let go of Balor. He moved to the centre of the room, Seth hid back, knowing he couldn't let himself be spotted. 'Come and find me Kane!'

The man was easily goaded, easily enraged and without further provocation, stormed out of the room, straight past where Seth had tucked himself away. His heartbeat was a drum that shook his whole body as he eased himself out when Kane was out of sight. Seth move as quiet, as swift as he could, the phone's light no longer needed, he tucked it away. When he entered the room, Balor didn't so much as look up until he moved even closer. On the laptop screen, he'd noticed how covered in scars the man was, but now that he was even closer, he could see just how much damage he'd endured, burns and scars and bruises covered him like a map. Even where the paint had stained his skin looked infected and raw.

'Finn?' Seth whispered softly, trying to coax a response, but nothing. 'Finn I'm going to get you out of here, alright?'

Realizing it was futile to expect words, he peered round at the handcuffs that held the other man to the pipe. If Dean were here he'd pick those in seconds, but his brother wasn't, he was God knew where serving as a distraction. Seth was on his own, no handy bolt cutters this time. But as he looked the pipe up and down, he realized how badly kept it was, and nearer the top, where it joined a secondary pipe, it was slightly out of place. If he could break the pipe, he could get Finn free of that at least. Where was Roman's strength now? No doubt up several floors, co-ordinating the matches like Seth had asked of him. He swallowed and took a hold of the pipe, this one scolding hot. The pain flushed through and he quickly realized where a great many of Finn's burns had come from. He quickly pulled off is hoodie and held it like a towel to grasp the pipe through the fabric. As he pushed, it let out a disturbing creak, but he didn't stop, and when it wouldn't go any further one way, he jerked it back. The grating of the metal seemed to catch Finn's attention, and he actually looked over his shoulder to see what Seth was trying to do.

'If you could help out buddy I'd appreciate it,' Seth grunted. But what could the other man do? One touch and he'd be burned further. So Seth kept at it until with one great heave, the pipe let out a horrid screech of metal and it toppled down to the floor, dragging Finn with it. Once again, he used the fabric of the jacket to protect his hands as he guided Balor free of the pipe. As soon as he was, the man was on his feet, head cocked like a dog unsure of human intention. 'I'm not gonna hurt you Finn...I'm Dean's friend. The one from before, I'm gonna get you out of here, alright?' it was clear as day the man was in no condition to have a match that night. He needed to be taken to a hospital and a LOT of therapy.

'_He's got the whole world, in his hands_...'

_Fuck_.

'Finn we got to go, we got to go _now_,' he didn't give Balor a chance to escape him, and gripped him by the arm as he hobbled painfully from the den and back into the darkness. There was no lantern to warn him. But he knew that more than Kane lurked the basement now. He tried to swallow the hiss of pain, to lead Balor along as swiftly as possible but it was difficult. Finn tried to resist but the further he took him, the less he tugged.

'_He's got the whole wide world, in his hands_...'

The singing was getting closer, closer...Seth tried to speed up, tried to go back by memory the route he'd taken. And then, he stopped.

There, laid out on the concrete, was Kane. Perched on his chest, was two items. Seth fumbled with his phone to try and see properly, but when the light shone down all he could feel was dread. There sat a sheep mask, and Dean's lighter. For a second he just stared, unhinged, about to laugh from the futility of it all, when a hand reached down through the light and snagged the lighter, flicked it to flame and lit the bent tail of a cigarette.

'_Dean..._,' relief wasn't enough and Seth near threw himself at his brother. 'You fucker, you just scared the shit outta me.'

'N'aw,' Came the gentle response. His brother blew the smoke near straight into Seth's face but he didn't care. Instead, Dean moved through the meagre light to look at Finn. Like Seth had predicted, as soon as he noticed the restraints, Dean was through them in seconds, releasing the demon from his shackles. 'Though we needs to go, Rowan was snooping. Took him out but who knows how soon his family will follow. Come on, I'll get us out.'


	45. Knock And She Will Answer

**((Hello hello! Welcome to day 12 of merry ficmas! I hope that you're all well and still enjoying these daily updates! They're proving a challenge but worth it in the long run! As always if you like the story, please follow and let me know what you think in the comments!**

They couldn't persuade Balor to go with an ambulance. The man would not be removed from Seth's side to the point that when he had to stumble out to announce the latest match, Dean had to physically hold the man down to a chair to stop him wandering out on that stage. They knew something terrible would happen if they allowed it, that all the lights, all the people, would drive him crazy. Finn Balor had been the subject for adoration for years, now reduced to nothing more than an abused dog, it would take time for him to recover, but already he peered around himself with keen interest, and in some cases recognition. One of the first people he spotted, seemed to remember was Bayley. Almost as soon as he glimpsed her, he'd broken away from Dean to stand in front of her, awkward, eyes wide, drinking her in. She too seemed overwhelmed at the emergence of her friend. She'd fought back tears, she'd touched his face, his scarred chest and pulled him into a back breaking hug that he didn't look entirely displeased with. Seth found himself wondering what songs there were that Balor could sing, stories he could tell about what the Authority had done to him. In all his time as the Authority's champion, their celebrated mouthpiece, their shining star, Seth had not known about the man in the boiler rooms. It seemed no matter how much faith they'd had in their Judas, they did not trust him with everything.

Even now as he stood on that stage, his body was ever present but his mind wandered to what was happening backstage, and even though he summoned a smile, it sickened him what they'd found down there. That brave face that he plastered on felt like a mask. Should he tell them all what they'd just discovered? Would it come off as contrived? Would they believe him or even care? Of course they'd seen what had happened on Monday...it was seared in the memories of thousands...but he doubted anyone really believed that the Authority's cruelty ran so deep, so low, into the bowels of every building.

'I hope you have all enjoyed our matches so far tonight!' he was met with that roar of approval once again, and found that the smile settled a little easier this time. It was difficult to be so on edge with thousands of people chanting your name. 'I think we need to thank the wrestlers who have performed so far for us tonight, and I think we can all agree that the matches so far have been phenomenal.' It was true, from what Roman had told him, Becky and Natalya had put on the best match of their careers, and even if Becky Lynch had been the one to land the pinfall, it had taken the talents of both of them to make an incredible match. The tag match between the New Day and Cesaro and Tyson Kidd was next up – the girls had put on a spectacular show for a long time, but it just proved, that the all the women needed was the same platform and same time as the male wrestlers, and they could shine just as bright. It was regretful really, that the matches they were seeing were being held on Smackdown rather than Pay-Per-View. But then, Smackdown had been shafted for so long, thought to be inferior to Raw that it was no real surprise that people didn't think much of it. If the people who ran it didn't treat it right, why would the audience?

'So next up we have -,' but before he could finish, the lights shut down.

This wasn't planned. Paige had settled up with the technicians to control the show, to organize the cameras but he'd not asked for this, she wouldn't have done it just to fuck with him. But then, that well earned dread from down in the boiler room surfaced thick and fast. A heavy bass line signalled the arrival of the _Eater of Worlds_. Thousands of mobile fireflies were raised into the air by well rehearsed puppets of Bray Wyatt. Smoke poured onto the stage and in his panic Seth stumbled back, the cane kicked out from under him and he hit the metal hard. He scrambled to clamber up to his feet, but just as he reached out for his cane to help him up, a foot halted his hand. The brace wasn't enough to protect it and pain shot through, but it was nothing compared to the sudden fear that welled in Seth's stomach. Above him, smiling down with lantern lit, reflecting his shining eyes, was Bray. And how he looked at him, with a cruel knowing of all that had transpired in the days since they'd snatched him, of what had occurred down in the basement...he pushed his weight down on the damaged wrist and blew out the lantern. When the lights came up, people seemed to return to their senses, put down their machine fireflies and stared appalled at what was happening on that stage. Flanked by Rowan and Harper, Bray seemed keen to send out a message, though only Lord knew what he had planned. Seth cast a desperate glance to Harper who stood motionless as Rowan moved round to his side, and caught his free hand under boot. Trapped with nowhere to go, Seth halted his struggles, and instead just stared at Bray, eyes full of hated, of defiance. His fear was well founded, but he'd be damned if he'd let Bray win over him in that way.

Wyatt snatched Seth's cane from the floor, he raised it up high to bring it crashing down on Seth's skull – but the blow never fell. He'd closed his eyes waiting for the impact, but now he looked up, saw that something stood between him and Wyatt, someone protecting him with her perpetual grace.

_Paige_.

For that moment nothing else existed. Caught in a warped bubble which separated them from the rest of reality, everything moved so very slowly. Time didn't cater to her, she was some goddess, dark and regal and her skinny tattooed fingers closed around that cane, her face a picture of cold defiance. She was half turned toward him where she'd stepped over his prone body to block the assault. Who knew where she'd come from, how she'd got there so fast. There seemed to be some alarm system in her head, shared by his brothers for when something was going wrong...and for the first time in weeks, it had gone off at exactly the right time. He saw the look of surprise on Wyatt's face, turn to one of terrible glee. That haunted smile, that possessed face, it saw something more than the human woman who faced him, it saw his _infernal goddess_. And he allowed her to snatch that cane from him, and he let her hit him with it. Again, again, she brought it down, rained blows that would have shattered someone's skull in her apocalyptic rage. Rowan and Harper didn't make a move to stop her, but instead, looked on, hypnotized by what she was doing, as if some dark memory were playing out in front of them.

Bray was down on the floor, his hands up now to try and slow the barrage of blows. With one of his arms free, Seth turned on his side and slammed his elbow into Rowan's foot. The man flinched, but only that was enough for him to wriggle lose. Paige readied another swing at Wyatt's exposed head, his hat somewhere on the floor nearby, but Seth reached up, caught the end of that cane and clung on.

'That's enough Paige,'

She looked at him as if he were mad, 'After what he did to you he deserves a thousand blows, how can you tell me to stop?'

Paige tried to jerk the cane from his grip, her eyes full of fierce intent. She wanted to murder this man for threatening to lay a single finger on her fiancé. It was then, and only really then, that he saw, really understood just how much she cared, how much she loved him. All these years he'd felt like he was the one whose love was stronger, the one who constantly said it, the one who showed just how much she mattered. Paige offered the words, the gestures, the actions, but sometimes she was so reserved beyond her lust that he did often wonder...did she loved him completely? And the answer now as he looked at her, begged her with his dark eyes to stop, that he had the resounding realization, that Paige Knight loved him more than reason allowed.

'Yes...Paige, please...don't be the woman he thinks you are,' Seth whispered.

It was all there behind those caramel eyes, the destruction, the fire that Wyatt so blindly believed in. It was there in the pain she wished to inflict, that if she carried on, she would be completely and utterly, irrevocably his Sister Abigail. The voices the mad man heard in his head directed him toward her, had waited for this moment, for her to embrace the wrath he so wished for. He wanted her to hurt him, to beat him with everything she had, to release the vengeful spirit from inside.

Her fingers started to loosen, and the cane slipped from her grasp and easily back into his. With a grunt of effort, Seth found himself back on his feet, both hands positioned carefully on top of its head. Wyatt looked a beaten man, bruises swelled on his face, but if he felt the pain he didn't show it. That blistering smile on his face had increased to jack o'lantern wide. His rotten teeth bucked from his mouth and his skin blossomed purple and red and yellow where she'd hit him. A short line of blood welled from his forehead, but still his brethren did not move to help him. It was only when Wyatt gestured to be pulled him, that Rowan was by his side, heaving him to his feet. But all the while, Harper lingered in the back, watching events play out through those borrowed glasses he still wore. He looked almost confused, as if he were seeing things clearly for the first time, the lengths Wyatt was willing to go to, bringing back Abigail would kill him. The cultist didn't seem to care, because he started to laugh, laugh and laugh. And when he ran out of breath, he bowed down to Paige, but never took his eyes off of her, even when she slapped him hard across the face. If anything, the smile grew.

It seemed that she didn't have to kill him to satisfy his belief. Even as she backed into Seth's embrace, Wyatt smirked at her, eyes wide as if he'd seen the holy light in her violence.

'You may not believe it, but inside, it's rotting you from the core. You know who you are, _Abigail_,' Wyatt whispered, loud enough for only them to hear, before he laughed once more, arms raised high. The lights cut, and when they finally came up again, the Wyatt Family had gone. Paige turned into Seth's arms. She shook violently. Seth swallowed. The microphone he'd held before was still somehow in one piece, and he carefully bent down to pick it up.

'The next match is the New Day versus Cesaro and Tyson Kidd,' he said clearly, before he ushered his girlfriend out to the back. The Wyatt's would pay for that, he didn't know when, he didn't know where, but he'd get revenge on Bray. Paige's emotional state was infamously unstable, she could swing from joy to violence, to tears to euphoria within minutes, but in all the time he'd known her, loved her, held her...she'd never been so catatonic. As soon as he was out back, he lowered her into a chair, and she just sat there and stared at him, a thousand words on her tongue, but nothing came out. He held her head gently in his hands, tried to make her look him in the eyes. His thumb stroked the side of her face, 'Hey Paige, baby, listen to me. Whatever happens, I'm not letting him near you again. He can't have you, you're strong, you're powerful, you're magical and you're fucking wonderful. You love too much and care too much and you're nothing like his witch. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I will do everything, anything to make you see that, to understand that. No matter what he makes you feel...you're Paige. You're my fiancé. You're nothing like what he thinks you are.'

Everyone around them stared. He didn't feel it, didn't acknowledge it, but cradled her head on his shoulder, and held her close when she cried. He could feel it burning inside, and saw it in the faces of his brothers as they returned with a bandaged up Balor in tow. Bray Wyatt would pay.


	46. That's Who I'd Be

**((Hello there everyone! Welcome to day 13 of merry Ficmas! Only a short update for today tomorrows will be too, but never the less I hope that you enjoy them! Please let me know what you think of it!))**

In the days that followed, much preparation had to be done. The _Money In The Bank_ pay-per-view had been a long time coming for Seth. Whilst he'd returned on _Smackdown_...this, this in some ways would be his true return to everything. Maybe he should have waited, would his homecoming have had more impact? In the end did it matter at all? No. Because he would not be returning to wrestle, he'd be there to support his friends, the people they'd helped defend, who they'd grown closer to over the past few weeks. He wanted to watch his girl fight and he wanted to see her _win_. To snatch that belt back from Stephanie, to be the champion once again...the very thought of it was too sweet to taste.

But there was a gloom over the group. Ever since her encounter with Bray, Paige had been silent. Not a single word or murmur had passed her lips. She'd not left his side, not left the house, just stared ahead, straight into the void of space and beyond. It was...as if she didn't know where she was. As if in that short moment with Bray, she'd completely forgotten the world she'd stood in for her whole life. What that man had said to her, seemed to have cut her deep. Paige had always been so solid, so strong, refused to let things affect her personally. Out of the two of them, he'd always thought of her as the pillar of salt, the unmoveable object. He'd always felt too much, unable to stop his pride from being too damaged. She was from a family that was an unstoppable hurricane; her parents were warriors, her brothers fighters, her sisters just as bold as she...and it hurt to think that the one person who had destroyed that, who'd broken through her shield was a man who meant nothing to her. It was a man, who lived to ruin the lives and minds of others, who wished for something more than just the world they were given. His petty decision that Paige was someone she wasn't, that she was this destructive force...

_You may not believe it, but inside, it's rotting you from the core. You know who you are, Abigail._

That bastard, that megalomaniac...if he had half a brain he should have known that Wyatt would have done something like this. Had he planned that assault on _Smackdown_ knowing that Paige would intervene, _hoping_ that she would so that he could confront her with his ideals? The look on his face, that horrific glee, that twisted smile as she'd beat him down...how he hated it, how he loathed it. Rowan and Harper had just stood by, watched as their leader was bashed around the head with the cane...like they were waiting for something to happen. And when it didn't, Harper didn't look at all surprised. Like he'd said to him, he thought Bray was wrong about Paige, knew that the crazed Wyatt leader had pinned his hopes on a false idol...and now Paige was paying the price of it.

Even on the flights to and from Davenport, she'd been empty, been so numb. She couldn't even look him in the eye. And so they now sat in a hotel bedroom, her ring gear laid out on the bed, and she sat there, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of her, on her own reflection, the woman who stared back at her was Paige Knight. There was no Sister Abigail behind the eyes, there was no witch inside that soul and yet that was all she seemed to be able to see. Had her outburst of violence really convinced her of what Wyatt pleaded? Did she suspect some cruel possession all along? It wasn't real. Abigail was dead. The dead didn't come back. They were buried under the ground, burned to ash or bloated in a swamp or river.

Seth sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders, holding her close whilst she continued to stare at that reflection.

'What do you see?' he asked, moved her hair away from her eyes. She seemed unfinished without her glaring make up, without her features bold and deep shadowed. He loved her all the same, stripped back, she was still his girl. All her layers, all her walls crumbled down, lay smashed on the floor and there she was exposed, like she was seeing herself for the very first time. Like this familiar vision staring straight back at her...was a complete stranger. For a long time, she didn't answer him, confused by how to answer, or unwilling to do it.

'Am I...am I what he thinks? Just this..._creature_?'

'No. You're so much more than anything I've ever known.' He turned how he sat on that bed, took her face in his hands as gently as possible, made her look at him, and for the first time in days, she actually did. Her amber orbs were locked onto his deep chocolate ones, searching for the answer she sought. 'Paige – what does it matter what Bray Wyatt thinks about you? Days ago, you laughed at the prospect of his obsession, and now it hurts you. Please, baby, I can't take seeing you this way. It kills me.'

She swallowed and slowly, reached up a tender hand to touch the thick bruising round his throat. A soft sniff as she held back more of those rare tears. 'I guess...I guess it felt like I was doing exactly as he wanted, as he expected. He knew that I'd try and hurt him, knew what I'd do to protect you. I guess it scared me that he was able to read me so easily, predict exactly what I would do. If he thinks of me as Sister Abigail, then to him, I am.'

'But to you?'

'I think, I think that I'm me. But how can I be Paige, if Paige is Sister Abigail?'

'Only you can answer that babe. Just know that no matter who you think you are, no matter how you feel, I'll love you all the same. We all have a moment in our lives where we stop and we forget who we are, who we've been or who we want to become. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes it takes days or even years, but eventually, we all figure out who that person is. I did – laying in that bed I couldn't remember why people like us, why I was important, how strong I could be, and so I lashed out, took it out on Dean. I learned from him that day...that we may not always like who we are all the time, but in the end, that's all we can be, us. And you – I see you as a woman, a wrestler, a lover, a care giver and eventually my wife. You're Paige.'

As the words left his mouth, a trail of loose syllables from an honest tongue, those hard eyes softened, her lips opened but it seemed she couldn't find words now. Instead, she kissed him, kissed his lips hard and desperate but full of devotion and love. He reciprocated, but knew, that now was not the time. He broke that kiss and glanced down to where the ring gear lay on that bed. She did too, her eyes rolled over every inch of fabric, before she nodded slowly.


	47. Musings Of A Lunatic

**((Hello everybody! Day 14 of merry ficmas here for you! I wanted to do a short p.o.v from Dean as parts of the next few chapters will be from his perspective. I hope that you've enjoyed this little extract. We've broken 18,000 view which is insane! Thank you for your continued support, all the love in the world! As always if you like the story, please follow it and/or leave a comment!))**

_He sat on that floor and stared at the wall in front of him, knees bent up, taped hands and fingers lay on the caps and his eyes bore into the plaster. Somewhere beyond that patterned wallpaper was the skeleton of the building. The electrical wiring was the veins and the arteries and if he squinted he was sure he could see the power gushing through. If someone were to cut one, would the electricity bleed out? Would the sparks flail from a bucking wire and would the whole hotel go down because its circuitry system had been compromised? He lifted a finger, and traced the patterns on the wall that just wouldn't sit still. Where was the heart of it all? Was it in the basement? Was it thick in the very centre of the building, whilst the brain was caught in the roof? The people who dashed from one place to another in their smart uniforms and plastic smiles, were they the anti-bodies and the red blood cells? Were they the frayed nerve endings trying to keep the place running? This place, this place was a body. Fully functioning, because all of the insides worked properly; a hive mind, a unit that did everything to keep the host safe and sound and working all proper. _

_What about the unwanted, the visitors in the rooms who paid their way to stay for a while before they were eventually driven out? Were they the bacteria, friendly in some cases, baddy bad in others? He curled a thumb and finger into a circle and twisted it around an eye, as if it might let him see through the wallpaper, through the plaster and timber and iron. Who was in that next room and what intention did they have?_

_He didn't plan on staying long. _

_In some ways, he thought he'd stayed to long in the shadows now. Way too long. His brothers had tried to protect him and he got it. He knew why – and it wasn't because they thought he'd be a liability, wasn't because they thought he'd slow them down. It was because they knew he'd make himself worse, throw himself into the fight and come out of it more broken than when he'd gone on in with a yee-haw. He looked on down at the leg they'd fixed up all pretty and nice in that hell hole of a hospital could have poked it with a knife in a random spot and it would have been good luck if he'd been able to feel it. His brothers didn't know, but some of that feeling still hadn't come back yet. That when those clever ol' doctors had gone in to do the dirty work, they'd fucked up a nerve or two. Perhaps it would be useful. Maybe it wouldn't. He didn't know, wasn't a medical man, never would be, never hoped to be. _

_He'd strayed from the path a hundred and one times, wandered off down dark alleyways and found himself on the wrong side of town and they'd always pulled him back from the brink and the drink and the drugs because that's what brothers did. He wasn't mad to them, just to the world. The people on the outside of their fragile glass bubble couldn't understand that Dean Ambrose wasn't mad, he was tired, that was all, tired of their judgements, tired of their insults, tired of the constant fight for home. Home – home was where the heart was and if that was the case then he was pretty darn sure that he found a piece in each of his friends. Rome would treat him just like that naughty kid in class but would always stand in the middle of those playground fights, Paige would treat him like that unwanted admirer, teasing and loving him though she didn't want his body with its stains and scars when there was a perfectly good beard to pull instead. Then there was Seth – smartest of them all...and the dumbest._

_Man couldn't see the stars in the sky until they were pointed out to him, but could tell you every fact there was about the night fireflies. They all had their things, those smashed up little pieces of their lives that made them fuck ups but when the remainder was put together they were a whole thing. Dented and battered, but whole. So why, right now, did he stare at that wall and wonder, what would happen to them?_

_He'd seen it in that ring on Paige's finger that growing up was gonna happen. Those two were in love and wanted to do the traditional and whatnot. What would happen to him and Rome? Would they wear suits and say their congrats and watch as those two precious gems floated off and out of their lives? Roman would go on to do something awesome – win sexiest man in the world, marry a model, have eighteen children and discover a sunken ship and then...what of Dean?_

_Would Dean go back to being the monster in the basement? The unwanted step-child no one wanted? He didn't think they'd forget him. Didn't want to be left behind...would tomorrow be harder than tonight? People would climb their ladders and they would swing their chairs and break their bones and their pieces would fall apart...but would they get fixed? Would at the end of it all – they be one big Shield, always protecting one another and keeping each other so very safe? Roman was out of the game and he'd been knocked for six, seven, eight, nine, ten, but now Dean was back again. Sure he was a bit of a knackered old boot but he was full of fight. Seth had taken him down to find Balor because he wanted the two to fight again, he was sure of it. Did Seth still have faith in the scruffy kid from Cincinnati? He cocked his head to one side tried to picture them all together on that wall in some fancy frame. _

_He'd keep them together. He could be like that super sticky glue. Even if he had to use his own spit to do it, he'd slather them all in nicotine saliva and force them to get along and play nice. Things were good for now, but he had this plan now. They'd always be good together cos it worked. Somewhere behind him on that double bed, Roman was sleeping. Maybe, maybe he could be the fairy godparent who made things even better than they already were. He glanced over his shoulder through dirty hair at his brother's foot and thought how he deserved a little piece of happy. He could do something, he was sure of it._

_Dean bit his thumb nail in thought._

_Tonight things were gonna get big, things were gonna shift and change all over again. Things would be good, he was pretty darn sure. And yet...as he thought of that absent heart in the walls and the floors and the ceilings, he couldn't shake the feeling that something might happen. The Wyatt's had been all up in Seth's space just to rile up Paige. But – but what? That's what it was. All that it was. So why did he somehow feel that Wyatt hadn't just been talking to the girl? Seth had turned around and said that Wyatt had an interest in Dean Ambrose too. Dean had an interest too, an interest in shoving his boot up Bray's ass. But –_

_But what?_

_He couldn't shake a cold feeling that was going up and down his spine, a little cruel thought that nibbled at his brain, a shadow of the future that he could sense coming. Seth was the smart one. But Seth couldn't see until someone showed him, he just knew. Dean could see, and as he stared at that wallpaper, as he thought about all that would be happening that evening, the matches, the positions they would all be in, acting to protect each other, keeping their friends safe, everything fell into stony place. _

_Grim faced and ignoring the sign on the wall, Dean pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and struck the cheap plastic lighter. He drew on that nicotine stick and rubbed the side of his head. Long time ago he would have just left the plans to Seth but...as he took another draw on the cigarette, he started to formulate thoughts of his own. He glanced over his shoulder at where Roman lay and then to the window, somewhere beyond the hotel in his home state of Ohio, evil mutterings were whispering. He could hear them, understood them with a fractured distracted mind, and as he took another drag, his scarred lips curled. _

_He would come out and play. The Lunatic Fringe would have his fun before tonight ended in blood. He could see it, knew it would happen. His teeth tightened around the bitter end of the cigarette, yes, tonight would be _his _night_.


	48. A PROBLEM

Hello everyone - I apologize for the lack of post yesterday but it's due to an unforeseen issue - my laptop took a tumble. unfortunately it has to go in to be fixed and Lord knows how long its going to take. This message of apology is from my phone, so until I get my laptop back, merry ficmas will be on hold. Really sorry to let everyone down and thank for your your understandjng. As soon as I have it back I will endeavor to try and get up to do as much as possible. In the meantime, wishing all my followers, favourites, fellow writers and everyone in general a very Merry Christmas, and hopefully I will see you all very soon! xxx


	49. All The Wrong Reasons

**((Hello there everyone! I hope that you all had a wonderful Christmas and a very happy New Year! I'm sorry you've had to wait so long for an update, but I hope you don't hate me too much! We're not far away from 20,000 views which is such an exciting thing! Please enjoy this new chapter. If you like it, follow the story, or tell me what you think in the comments! All the love 3))**

Columbus, Ohio. He'd been before, countless times. He'd explored the city, seen the sights, ate the food, seen the teams, trained in the gyms and slept in the hotels. Life was a blur for the professional wrestler, and to recall every location he'd ever visited would have been difficult. But he remembered Columbus. One of his dates with Paige had been among the endless stalls of the Ohio State Fair. They'd laughed, they'd played, and it had been one of the best days of his life. Every day with her, was the very best day. But here and now they were present for reasons other than pleasure. They were not on the card. _Money In The Bank_ did not wish to invite the Shield. Stephanie had made it very clear at the end of _Smackdown_ that should they appear, it wasn't just her lackies he need worry about, she'd see to it that he'd never leave the hospital again and would eat through a straw for the rest of his life. Not the kindest of letdowns he'd ever received, but since he didn't intend to listen to her in the first place, he didn't really care. What he did care about, was what would happen at the pay-per-view. Their only real wish for the evening was to prevent someone in Stephanie's pocket from getting their hands on that golden briefcase. He knew all too well what it could do in the wrong hands. He liked to consider his had been the right ones, but he was sure Stephanie would disagree with him. Paige was prepared for her match. Winning back the belt for her wasn't just a matter of power, it was one of pride. She'd worked her ass off for the title, handing it over to Stephanie the way she had done, didn't devalue it. Not to Paige.

She _was_ the _Diva's Champion_.

She didn't want them to help her.

She didn't want them to intervene.

All she wanted from them was their support, their love, well wishes, and to keep the Wyatt Family away from her. He could promise her the moon and the stars and never expect to have to deliver them, but tonight, he knew he had to keep his promise to her. They all did. Roman may not have been able to stand up and fight, but he too had agreed, and Dean? Dean had a distant look in his eye, a strange expression which Seth couldn't fathom. Roman had told him, he'd woken in the early hours to find Dean on the floor, staring at the wall and smoking. Something bothered his brother; something had wiggled its way so deeply into his brain that Seth was concerned. And as they all stood in the parking lot of the Nationwide Arena, huddled together, Dean gripped Seth's hand in his own nicotine stained digits, and gave him a very slow nod. He didn't know what it meant, but he understood one thing: Dean would do something that night, something he couldn't control or stop, something that could alter everything.

But...he trusted him. He squeezed his brother's hand, and watched as he drifted off from their group, into the shadows and into the bowels of the building.

'Where's he gone?' Paige peered around, 'He didn't give me my pre-match _good luck_ lick. That's bad juju. How am I supposed to win without it?'

After their gentle talk, she'd started to rebuild her confidence, saw something more than Wyatt's virginal vision. But even now, you could how hard she'd been hit. Her makeup was minimal, a slash of black for her eyes and a dark purple lip, but nothing more. Her hair was tied back in a thick braid to keep it out of the way. She didn't intend to go out and put on a show and to look sexy for a crowd of fans tonight. She intended to go out there and beat the crap out of a woman who had humiliated and harmed them all. She was focused, it was there in her face, but Seth couldn't help but wonder just how worried she was about Bray Wyatt and his followers turning up to rain on her parade. Tucked in one of his black hoodys, she looked very small, but dynamite could pack a punch, and she'd already done something to prepare. Her knuckles were taped. She'd only ever done that when sparring before, never in a wrestling match. But it seemed tonight would be the night that she left the wrestler behind and became the brawler they all knew she was. Seth placed a hand on her shoulder, the other on top of that cane for support.

'I think Dean has his own business to attend to tonight,' his eyes flicked to where Dean had disappeared. 'But I know he'll be screaming for you, babe.'

'He'd better. I want that whole building worshipping me tonight.'

'Alright you, I think you're taking this Sister Abigail thing to your head,' Roman chuckled from her right and gently cuffed her forehead. 'Soon you'll be telling us to sacrifice orphans at your alter.'

'I expect that anyway. Except maybe not orphans, perhaps just chocolate and whiskey,' she nodded to herself, 'yes, yes I think those would be excellent starting choices and ultimately, would win my favour.'

Roman smiled and moved behind her. He wrapped those muscular arms around her and gave her a tight embrace, his head on top of hers. 'Well let's hope the odds are in your favour tonight baby girl, I know I'll be rooting for you from the Gorilla.'

Paige leaned into his warmth, before she tilted her head back against his chest and gave his bearded chin an affectionate kiss of thanks. A tap of her fingers on his arm and he released her. 'Thanks big dog.'

The arena was still filling up, the show yet to start for another hour or so. They'd come to the lot for some peace before it all turned to war. In the changing rooms, Daniel Bryan, Dolph Ziggler and Sami Zayn were preparing for this match of a lifetime. If any of them won, it would be a turning point. One of them, whenever they should chose, could cash in that contract to snatch the title from Triple H. Those three men were deserving of that title, who could be excellent champions. In their way were the three stooges, Jericho, Kevin Owens and Rusev would be formidable opponents; they'd proved that time and time again. But no one was going into the match at one hundred percent. At least now, it was fair. Paige though, she and Stephanie were both operating with malice and venom, and even if their limbs gave out, they'd keep fighting until someone won.

'Since we're talking odds, what do you think are the chances of Stephanie getting in a little extra help for our match? For some reason I can't see her allowing me the luxury of bursting her billion dollar bubble without someone interfering.'

'Don't worry. We'll keep our noses out. But if someone does come, then you'll have back up.'

The women's locker room was proving the backbone of their little rebellion. Stephanie had attempted to cause some friction by announcing Becky Lynch versus Nikki Bella versus Natalya versus Charlotte, but all was well on the western front. The girls acknowledged it as nothing more than a test of skill. They would '_not allow their sisterhood to be broken up by a washed up old hag_' as Nikki herself had put it. Sasha and Bayley had offered to keep defensive watch, and whilst he'd agreed to their help, they'd decided on their own game plan. The rest of the male locker room was too preoccupied with their matches and promos to worry about anything happening. It seemed they were more than content to let someone else fight for their rights and future. A handful of exceptions had promised to keep their eyes open for any issues and their fists should they be needed. The first match of the night would be The New Day versus the Uso brothers, followed by the women's four-way, then the _Money in the Bank_ ladder match, followed by Paige against Stephanie for the diva's championship. Four matches didn't seem like enough, but Seth was confident that the limited number would allow them to keep everything running smoothly _and_ in their favour.

Seth reached out and took Paige's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 'Think we should head on in?'

She nodded, but before they could move at all, a car pulled in. It was a sleek, black limousine. It came to a smooth halt only a few meters away from them. The driver was quick to get out and to move to the back to open the door. Suspicious, unsure, Seth positioned himself in front of Paige and Roman, his cane held defensively –

'Ah Mr Rollins. How wonderful to see you again.'

Paul Heyman wore his very best suit, with a smart red tie. He looked as if he'd lost a couple of pounds since Seth had last conversed with him in the back of that taxi. The fat man looked rather cheerful, and that was never a good sign, but Seth relaxed just a little. If Heyman were here, that usually meant that Brock Lesnar wasn't too far behind, but just for that moment, he was grateful. Lesnar was not Triple H, and whilst he was sure the _Beast_ didn't have him on his Christmas card list, Heyman had made it clear before that Lesnar respected the sneak move he'd made. It didn't mean he was out of the woods, but it did mean he didn't have to worry about getting fucked by the trees.

'Heyman,' Seth nodded slowly. 'You're looking well. Come for the spectacle tonight?'

'Very kind of you, I feel very well. I've started juicing. It works wonders for the waistline. And since you ask, yes, I am. I'm here to witness something which will bring me vast satisfaction Rollins.' He pulled at the cuffs of his suit jacket, all the while smiling like the cat which had the cream. 'I'm here for a chat with your friend Dean Ambrose.'

'Well you've missed him,' Roman grunted. He moved out from behind Seth's protective shield and took a step in front of him, separating Seth and Heyman. 'Feel free to leave a message.'

Heyman did not seem to mind this development, and continued with that grin. It was a little unnerving how his whole face seemed to stretch back with that smile, like someone were tightening the skin at the back of his head.

'Well that it is unfortunate. You see, the message is from my client Brock Lesnar. You see he feels that your Dean Ambrose cheated when they competed the other day. He feels, like his obvious win had been snatched from him. Now, as you can imagine, being cheated by two Shield members in the space of several months has caused him to lose his temper. He would like a rematch with Mr Ambrose, to show, that when your friend doesn't have someone to hide abuse and hide behind, Brock Lesnar will always emerge victorious.'

'I'll be sure to pass it on,' Roman grunted in dismissal.

'Oh but you see Mr Reigns, that's not all. You see, Mr Lesnar wished to issue his challenge in person. And he wished to have that match right here, right now. And since Mr Ambrose is not here...I guess you'll have to do instead.'

They'd not seen Lesnar exit the limo. They'd not seen him move into position. They only saw as he smashed into Roman, and took him down to that concrete floor.

'Roman!' Paige's scream echoed around the lot. She made forward but Seth blocked her way.

'You can't! Get out of here Paige! Go! Just go!' he ordered. She tried to shove past in defiance, but he refused. He couldn't let her get hurt. He just couldn't let Lesnar lay his hands on her. 'You're too important now just get out of here! Go!' She stood, unsure, on her toes, ready to disobey. 'Just go woman!'

Finally she listened and started to run, and Seth turned in place, his cane raised in his hand like a club, and as he hobbled closer, he saw the blood already begin to well from Roman's mouth as he attempted to block a barrage of blows to his delicate head. With a roar, Seth brought that cane down onto Lesnar's back, hard, sharp, again and again. The first hits the _Beast_ didn't even seem to feel, but then, after one rebounded off his cauliflower ear, Lesnar stopped his assault on Roman. Slowly, so slowly, he rose to his feet, and turned his head to stare at Seth.

'Leave him Lesnar. You've no quarrel with him,' Seth growled, cane still in his two hands, ready to strike again. 'If you have argument with anyone, it's with me.'

'No,'

He was actually surprised to get a single word out of the man. Lesnar, blood splatter on his face from where he'd pummelled Roman, looked far too calm.

'You took my title, but the way you did it, I would have. But your friend the other day, he deprived me of a victory, made deals to sneak his way out. Not today. Today I'll have Dean Ambrose, and today, I'll break him. I'll take away every hope he has. When he fights me, he'll have nothing left, and that includes you,' Lesnar pointed at Seth, 'and him,' the finger drew down to Roman, 'and if it comes to it, your precious girlfriend.'

'Don't even go there Lesnar,' Seth lowered the cane slowly, 'don't ever bring her into this. Dean did what he had to, to try and protect us, just like you stopped to protect Heyman. He didn't cheat, he didn't lie. He told you why he was doing what he did. You didn't lose, you didn't win. If you can't understand that, then there's no real wonder why you let Heyman do all the talking.'

Between Brock's feet, Roman was a bloody mess, but beneath the red, he was awake, he had all his faculties, and was somehow very conscious. He had half rolled onto his side, and started to crawl away. Lesnar could see him out of the corner of his eye, and his head turned slightly to watch. But he didn't move to hurt him further. The threat lingered. Seth knew that if the fancy took Lesnar, he would turn and destroy Roman further.

'All you want is that title right? So why don't you make a point about that? Triple H is out injured, which means he's weaker. You can thank Dean for that. As soon as he comes back, make your challenge to him. You're worth too much to the company for him to say no. You can hold that title again on your terms that way. That would be a win which mattered, wouldn't it?'

Behind Lesnar he could see Paul Heyman leaned casually against the limo, a little plastic cup in hand with a straw poking out of it. He was clearly enjoying both one of his juices and the scene before him, because he gave Seth an approving nod for what he was saying. Lesnar he could respect. Heyman he just wanted to see squirm, and if Lesnar approached Triple H for that title match, he had no doubts that _the Game_ would see to it that Heyman would suffer for the arrogance of his client. But if anything he said could prevent a further beat down of Roman, or any threat to Dean, then he hoped to God that his tongue had suddenly turned to silver.

'Brock, we're not your enemies.'

It was true. He had no argument with the man. Not really. If he could get him even half on side that was a victory to preach about; Seth let his cane touch the floor, and rested his hand on top of it again. No longer poised to attack, he wasn't an immediate threat. Roman had managed to crawl half behind him now. Seth tucked some hair behind his ear. The previous night, Paige had dyed his 'skunk chunk' back in. He was starting to feel more and more like his old self, and perhaps that's what gave him the confidence to face Lesnar as he did now. 'We just want things to be fair around here. You're a collegiate wrestler, a sport which takes pride in talent, strength and stamina. The WWE hasn't been about that for a long time. It's been about the people who have the power and the money. It's not just the Shield fighting back anymore Brock. I don't expect you to see eye to eye with me, and I don't expect you to join the cause. Just remember that this is your fight too.'

Lesnar eyed Seth cautiously. The words worked through the man's brain until he seemed to come to a conclusion that he liked. 'You talk pretty Seth.'

Was that a compliment? He supposed it was.

'And maybe you're right. I might just do that. But don't think that this is over between us. I will get my hands on your friend. Maybe not right now, maybe not tonight. But I will get him in that ring, even if I have to drag _you_ in there to get him to face me.'

'Fair enough,' Seth muttered. He knew that this would only be a temporary solution. Behind him, Roman had somehow managed to clamber to his feet. The arena would soon be full, and within the hour, the show would begin. He needed to get Roman seen to, if only to clean him up. Had Dean seen this coming? Was that why he'd run off? It didn't seem like something his brother would do. The man was always up for a fight. No. He had to conclude that Dean didn't know this would happen. 'I guess I'll be waiting.'

With a stout nod, Lesnar turned in place, and clambered back into that limo, swiftly followed by a visibly shaking Heyman. But the advocate wasn't afraid, he was joyous. It was impossible not to see. Whatever Seth had said to bring him so much glee he didn't know, but he immediately disliked that smirk and those shiny eyes. With the shut of that black door, the driver was back in the front, and pulled away. Seth watched the limousine exit the lot and turned around to face Roman. He looked worse for wear, but the wounds seemed mostly cosmetic, a split lip, busted nose and an open cut above the eyebrow. He leaned against one of the other cars, and shook his head to try and stop any bells ringing. Seth cocked his head to one side.

'You've looked better,'

'Fucker, absolute fucker,' Roman growled and let out a swipe at Seth who dodged around it. 'Lesnar's got some balls to start with me...'

'Don't bring your pride into this Rome,' Seth warned, 'it could be the death of you if you try going after him. Be thankful he backed off when he did, otherwise your pretty face might have been on the bottom of his shoe.'

Irritated, Roman slammed a fist down on the roof of that yellow car. 'He'll go after Dean Seth.'

'I know, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Our focus for now has to be tonight. We have to keep an eye on Paige and help in that _Money in the Bank_ match, otherwise Lesnar might be our only hope for ever getting that belt off Triple H, and I really don't want to have to enter negotiations with the walrus.'

'Quick thinking though Seth, gotta give you that brother,' Roman sniffed, and wiped some blood away on the back of his hand. 'Glad to know those cogs still turn right in your head.'

Seth smiled a little and tapped the side of his skull with the head of the cane. 'I don't know, things rattle a bit more than they used to.'

'Rollins?'

Seth blinked and turned to find J&amp;J standing at the top of the car park steps. They had on their very best suits. It was a miracle that they were still employed. He would have smiled at them if they hadn't been on the security cameras. Here their allegiance could not be touched upon, could not be shown. Stiffly, he nodded. 'Can I help you with something ladies?'

'Mr McMahon would like a word with you,'

Vinnie Mac was here? Seth's eyes widened. He edged a little closer to Roman. 'What do you think?' he muttered, but was met only with a shrug. Seth swallowed a little, and cast his attention back to the two men. 'Well, I guess we can't refuse an invitation from the boss.'

'Not him,' Jamie pointed at Roman. 'Just you.'

'Rome needs medical attention.'

'We'll see to it.'

'I -,'

'We'll see to it.'

Knowing they'd keep their word, he nodded slowly. 'Alright, fine. Tell him I'm on my way.'


End file.
